Worlds Wrought & Ruined
by ennui deMorte
Summary: Spike, the Seer for Wolfram & Hart, had a vision of a death at Hogwarts. When trying to prevent the vision, the extent Second War is revealed. As Harry Potter dreams the Seer’s dreams, a new world is wrought. It is time to reap what has been sown.
1. Prologue: Dreams of the Dead

**Worlds Wrought & Ruined**

**by**** ennui deMorte**

_A Harry Potter/Angel/Buffy the Vampire Slayer crossover_

**Spoilers: _Buffy_ Season 7; _Angel_ Season 4; _Harry Potter, Books 1 thru 5_**

**Disclaimer: Buffy the Vampire Slayer and all associated characters, settings, etc., belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, UPN, etc. Harry Potter and all associated characters, setting, props, etc., belong to J.K. Rowling, Scholastic Inc., etc. No copyright infringement is intended.**

**Notes: Variations on canon Jossverse at the end.**

++

**Prologue**

**_Dreams of the Dead_**

***

The subway screeched and swayed, but the noise could not overcome the sharp crack of bone crisply breaking. A quick snap, a quick jerk of the hands, and the Chosen is gone, her neck cleanly broken, leaving him kneeling over her, staring into her wide dead eyes.

He was here, again, in this memory. Remembering—_But why? _

"Because."

He jerked back slightly and then stared down in horror. She had spoken. She had _never _spoken before and with good reason; she was, after all, _dead. _Alright, not a memory, a dream._ _

"You died. For me."

The girl under him shifted from the dead African American woman into a small Chinese girl clad in red with puncture wounds in her neck. _His _puncture wounds. The words were in Chinese but somehow he understood.

"For me."

The form then shifted into a dark girl, her hair in elaborate braids and her throat slit. She spoke in heavily accented English. _A bizarre dream._

"For me."

Finally, the girl shifted into a small blonde, lying still on top of a pile of rubble, peaceful, eyes closed and a small smile. No indication of the cause of death.

At the sight of the blonde, he jerked up from his kneeling position, stumbling backward, finally standing and taking another step back. 

She spoke without opening her eyes. "For me." 

She opened her eyes and looked at him directly, still smiling serenely.

"Until the end of the world, even if it happens to be tonight."

He choked at hearing _his_ words coming from her.

She stood slowly, moaning slightly and grimacing, grumbling, "That fall stung." He chuckled softly at that and she returned his smile, a smile of happiness.

"Do you remember this night?"

His smile faded immediately. "How could I forget?" he said tersely. "I _still_ have nightmares. Over and over—seeing you take that _bloody_ swan dive and powerless to do a thing." 

"Yes, there is a lot of pain and death," she said, nodding slowly. "But something else happened this night. You were given something you thought forever lost to you. Remember?"

He drew his head down; trying to think what good had come of this horrible night.

_What had he gained?_

They had all lost the Slayer.

An older sister.

A best friend.

A pseudo daughter.

A hero.

A warrior of the people.

The Chosen one.

And a tentative friend.

He began shaking his head—he had gained nothing—he had failed—failed to protect Dawn, failed in his promise to her, the Slayer, failed Buffy— He had promised to protect Dawn until the end of the world and the Slayer had trusted him to keep his promise—

He jerked his head up sharply, the tears still in his eyes as he looked into hers and he spoke softly, "Your Trust."

The blonde nodded. "I knew you would figure it out." Her smile widened. "And you have proved, over and over again, that it is well deserved. It was never misplaced. We have never doubted, never revoked the invitation, never wavered in out Trust in you. That is why we have chosen you."

"We?"

She ignored him and continued, "You died. For us," and morphed from the blonde to a brunette with long, straight hair, taller than the blonde, with bright blue eyes. _Dawn, the girl he had failed to protect._ Her hands rested on her cocked hips as she glared at him.

"Buster, you just stop that right now." She stalked up to him and started poking him in the chest as she continued to scold him. "Who was it that let Glory nearly kill him rather than endanger me? Who was with me when I found out I was the Key? Who stayed, even _after_ Buffy died, keeping his promise? It was you, Spike, you. You never failed to protect me."

"But—" he said weakly, gesturing to the rubble pile that her older sister had previously been lying on.

She shrugged, slipping her hands in the pockets of her jeans. "You did as you were meant to that night. You delayed the bloodletting long enough to allow Buffy to reach me, before it was too late, before I died. I survived that night; you protected me just like you promised, so stop feeling sorry for yourself and stop being— oh, how you would say it— a _bleedin__' arse." Then she stuck out her tongue at him. He chuckled at that and her horrible imitation of his accent._

She took a few steps back and then crossed her arms, face screwed up in concentration. "Shoot, now you made me forget what I was supposed to say."

"_I_ made you?"

"Shush you. Where were you before you started your pity party?"

She earned a glare for that, to which she just smiled. "I don't quite know. Your Big Sis was just here and before her, there were other Slayers—"

"Right. I remember—now don't interrupt or else I'll forget again—Oh," remembering something and perking up again, "tell the Powers that I _totally_ approve. They made an excellent choice. Both of you deserve a second chance and I'm glad you get it. Ok, back to the reason I am really here, not that the talk wasn't nice. I _am_ glad that I get a chance to say this: Thanks. For everything." She smiled with watery eyes and then stood straighter, shoulders thrown back, and continued.

"You died for me, too. And now," her American accent slowly changed into a crisp British accent, "I have to ask you to go back." 

He blinked and looked again. She still _looked like Dawn; her face hadn't changed but— _

Her clothes slowly melted together and reformed into a blue robes as she walked closer to him, her hair became braided and swept up; a small wand appeared, tucked behind her ear. He drew in a sharp breath.

"Back? _Elizabeth__?"_

She nodded and smiled warmly at his shocked expression before continuing. "Back to the world of wizarding you had long ago forsaken."

_It was they who had forsaken him_, he thought. _And her. _Not the other way around._ Why would he _ever _go back?_

"It is time to reclaim what was lost long ago and time to remember what was forgotten. A new world has been wrought and it is time for you to walk in it."

The blue eyes darkened to almost black, her hair coming loose and curling, wand disappearing, skin paling dramatically.

"You walk in worlds the others can't even begin to imagine."

The voice took on a sing-song quality and the accent became rougher, more like his.

"She is right; it is time, my Dark Knight. After all, it is always—about—Blood."

Eyes flash to feral yellow. The dream jerks away, flying fast, blurring into a Vision, allowing only glimpses—a castle school surrounded by magic, a lake deep and clear, a forest, forbidden, and the flash of those feral eyes from within its depths. 

***

++

**Time:           10:17 GMT **

**Location:     Potions Classroom, _Hogwarts__School__ of Witchcraft and Wizardry _**

                     Scotland UK

~@~@~

"MR. POTTER!"

A slam reverberated through his head and, combined with the bellow, ripped him from—whatever the hell that was—and Harry's eyes opened. Only to close them immediately, wincing from the light.

"Open—Your—Eyes NOW!"

Harry, still wincing in pain, cracked his eyes open and found himself staring into the furious black eyes of an outraged Potion Master. Hands firmly planted on the desk, Professor Snape leaned over the cauldron and hissed angrily, "Mr. Potter, my classroom is not meant to be used as a bedroom. If you are not getting enough sleep, I suggest that you curtail your illegal nocturnal activities." He paused, still glaring. "Well? What do you have to say for yourself!!??!" He ended in a low roar.

Harry cringed at both the volume and the tone of his Professor's voice. He already had the beginnings of a horrible migraine and Snape was not making it better. He was in trouble no matter what he said. Harry closed his eyes and began to rub his temples. "Professor, I—I had a—" 

A throat being cleared made him stop speaking and open one eye, peering curiously at his professor. He looked less angry now and a little—concerned? The black eyes were no longer staring into his eyes, but were higher, on his forehead, where he was unconsciously rubbing his scar. Harry immediately stopped his hand and opened both eyes fully as his professor again looked into his eyes. An almost imperceptible nod told Harry that the Potion Master understood.

Snape straightened and sneered down at the Gryffindor. "Can't think of an excuse? Creativity failing you? Oh well, 20 points from Gryffindor." He started to stalk back to the front of the classroom and said without looking back, "And Mr. Potter, you will stay after class." 

Hermione looked at him, her face caught between concern and reproach. Harry shook his head and mouthed, "Later," before closing his eyes again and mentally groaning. _What in the hell was that? A vision? From who?  And why, in of all classes, did it have to happen in Potions?_ The year was off to a great start.

++

**Time:           04:17 CST (GMT-6)**

**Location:     Airplane**

~@~@~

Dawn jerked up violently in her seat and banged her head on the overhead compartment. "Owwww!" She sat back, moaning softly and rubbing the top of her head, looking around. _Why was she awake—no one else was—the plane was still dark. Maybe it was her dream—she stopped, her hand stilled in her hair and choked. She closed her eyes, trying to stave the tears. She croaked out one word before she began to cry._

_"Spike."___

++

**Time:           02:17 PST (GMT-8)**

**Location:     Suite, _Wolfram & Hart Law Firm_**

                     Los Angeles, CA  USA

~@~@~

Spike flinched, his eyes flying open; suddenly awake in bed and sitting up quickly. _Too_ quickly evidently, because he moaned and grabbed his temples, falling back into his bed.

"Damn it all, those buggering, interfering arses," he began grumbling. "First you bring me back to this rock, alive I might add, when the cheerleader died. Then, you tell me I have to work with Peaches, a chore in and of itself. But finally, _finally, you stick me with these incomprehensible visions that feel like they are melting my brain!" _

He then looked straight at the ceiling with a threatening fisted hand and started yelling, "Why can't you leave me the hell alone!! I was sleeping, albeit having a bizarre dream that I can't quite remember now because of the POUNDING in my head from that blasted vision, but I _was sleeping!!! Feels like a bloody chainsaw…" _

Grimacing, he adds in a slightly amused voice, "Angelus is just going to _love_ this. Ergh!"

He started struggling to sit up again. "Why can't the important visions come during the day, like, say, when we are all at the office, _together_. No, dead of night, waking up tired, overworked demons." He sighed, "Well, time to spread the joy." 

Finally managing to sit up again, swaying only slightly, he leaned over to the bedside table and punched a button on the phone.

"Call. Vision. Code: Alpha-one," he clearly enunciated. 

Responding, a mechanical voice echoed through the dark bedroom, "Calling: Angelus; Gunn; Winifred; Watcher Junior; Destroyer. Begin Recording. Vision: William – 02:17 September 20 PST. Priority: Alpha-One. Connecting." A pause, then a series of clicks and unhappy grumbling. "Connected."

Spike took over again, wearily rubbing his eyes. "Rise and shine Fang Gang. The Powers are cranky and so am I." He paused and then added, in a heavier voice, "And so, evidently, is Dru. It seems we will be taking a trip to the Mother Country."

The grumbling turned into groans that echoed through the darkened room.

+++

_[Spike's Dream was the part that we read. The Vision is the really fast, blurred part at the end and only Spike saw it.] _

**Notes:** Variations on canon Jossverse.

Two major changes to the Buffy/Angel universe that I am implementing: 

**(1)** Connor, Angel's son, did _not_ have a psychotic break at the end of Season 4. He was just extremely traumatized. Therefore Angel did not send him away; he kept Connor with him at Wolfram & Hart, decided to actually spend some time with the kid and got him some good counseling and anger management classes.

**(2)** Cordelia, Angel's Seer, dies shortly after Angel Investigations assumes control of Wolfram & Hart. As a Champion for the Light, Angel still needs direction from the Powers That Be, the good ones that used to determine what slayer will be Chosen next, and the best way is through another Seer. The person they gift with visions is Spike and he brought back to life* for this task. He is no longer a vampire, but now a part-demon, part-human as were both his predecessors: Cordelia Chase and Francis Doyle. 

*Spike, aka William the Bloody, recently gave his life to save the lives of the Slayer Buffy Summers, her friends and the new army of Slayers by destroying the First's army of Neanderthal-like vampires. In the process, he also closed the Hellmouth and destroyed the city once known as Sunnydale. This same force burned Spike's vampire body to ash.

++


	2. Ch 1: Supernatural Connections

**Worlds Wrought & Ruined**

**_Chapter 1_**

**Spoilers: _Buffy_ Season 7; _Angel_ Season 4; _Harry Potter, Books 1 thru 5_**

**Disclaimer: Buffy the Vampire Slayer and all associated characters, settings, etc., belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, UPN, etc. Harry Potter and all associated characters, setting, props, etc., belong to J.K. Rowling, Scholastic Inc., etc. No copyright infringement is intended.**

**Notes: Spike's nicknames for his coworkers at the end.**

Thanks to my brilliant Beta **Lady Lestrange. Without her, I would never have had the courage to write this story, let alone post it.**

++

**Chapter 1**

**_Supernatural Connections_**

+++

**Time:           ~11:00 GMT **

**Location:     Potions Classroom, _Hogwarts__School__ of Witchcraft and Wizardry _**

                     Scotland UK

~@~@~@~

The Potions class silently filed out, leaving Harry, head lying in his hands, unmoving at his table, cauldron empty and fire quenched.

He heard the door shut and muttered locking and silencing spells.

"Mr. Potter, dare I hope that I was correct in class and you merely fell asleep?" Harry shook his head in the negative and Snape sighed. "I didn't think so, but I had hoped. Am I correct in assuming you experienced a vision?" Harry nodded. After a lengthy pause, Snape continued testily, "Well?"

"Well, what sir?"

"First pick up your head and look at me when you speak." The boy complied, cracking his eyes open ever so slightly and managing to look thoroughly miserable. "What did you see?"

"That's just it sir, I'm not quite sure what I saw."

"Well, I assume it has something to do with the Dark Lord—" but he stopped when the boy started shaking his head in the negative. "It wasn't?" he asked incredulously.

"No, as far as I could tell, it had nothing to do with Voldemort." Snape flinched at the boy's casual use of the name, but did not reproach him. Harry continued weakly, "It was bizarre—it felt like no other vision that I have had. There was no pain. It was like a dream, at least I think it was, someone else's dream that I was observing. If it was a dream, it was an extremely strange one. The reason I know it wasn't Voldemort is because I could see the dreamer and it was _not him." He paused._

 "Who was it?"

"I have no idea, never seen him before in my life: curly hair, pale skin, blue eyes. One girl addressed him as Spike, I think." 

"Spike?"

"That is what it sounded like," Harry answered.

"Is that a—common Muggle name?"

"No," Harry said slowly, giving the Potions Master a look indicating that, in his opinion, Snape was an idiot wizard for even _asking_ the question.

"Well, you never can tell with Muggles…" Snape mumbled to himself. Then he seemed to collect himself and barked, "Are you sure this—_Spike_—is the dreamer?"

"I have to assume he was the dreamer because he was the only thing in the dream that didn't change." He looked thoughtful for a moment and then continued, "And didn't look dead." 

He paused, thinking, and then looked Snape in the eyes hopefully, "Do you think that's it?  Do you think someone is killing these women and I can somehow help them?"

"Potter, since you do not seem to know any of these people, do you not think it is highly unlikely that you are meant to run off to save them?"

"No, I suppose not," said Harry with a frown. "I wouldn't even know where to go. The people in the dream all spoke with different accents and I don't mean Irish or Scottish, so it was impossible for me to tell where they were, assuming they were ever all in one place. I mean, one girl was Chinese, and spoke Chinese. Another had a really thick accent, maybe one of the African countries. Most seemed to have American accents but the dreamer was British. He was slightly hard to understand—the words seemed rough somehow."

Snape nodded, "A sign of lower-class upbringing." Harry frowned in confusion, and Snape explained further, "His accent would be cleaner, more like yours, if his family had the money to send him to proper schooling. The accent would stay the same as long as he remained around those with similar ways of speaking. Understand?" Harry nodded, even though his brow was still furrowed. "What?" 

"Well, the last two speakers were also British; the first spoke very clearly but the other spoke just like him. And he seemed to know both of them. I didn't really see the end, you—ah—woke me before it ended."

"Yes, well, that was unfortunate but unavoidable. We had best take this to the Headmaster. Come along Potter."

He groaned, "Can I get something for my head first? It feels like it has been split open with a chainsaw." At the uncomprehending look, Harry amended the comment. "A Muggle-type ax."

"Ah, yes, I can see where that would be painful."

++

**Time:           ~11:10 GMT **

**Location:     Headmaster's Office, _Hogwarts__School__ of Witchcraft and Wizardry _**

                     Scotland UK

Walking up the spiral stairs to the Headmaster's office, Severus asked himself what he had done in life to deserve this. After a moment, he glanced down at his left arm, answering his own silent question. _But still, Gryffindors?_

"Albus," the Potions Master greeted tersely as he entered the office.

"Good Morning Severus."

"I see nothing good about it," Severus scowled darkly. His entire day was ruined because of Potter and his damned vision. And right in the middle of his class, too.

"Now Severus—"

Harry slowly walked in, staring at the ground. Severus raised an eyebrow at Albus, indicating the cause of his dark mood.

"Headmaster, Mr. Potter nodded off in my class—"

"I didn't—" Harry head shot up, starting to protest to the Headmaster.

"Or at least I thought he did. It seems he had a vision."

Dumbledore straightened in his seat, his eyes losing some of their twinkle. He looked at Harry, slightly frowning, "During the day? Isn't that a little strange Harry?" 

Severus snorted as Potter began to answer the clearly rhetorical question.

Harry nodded, "Even stranger is who the vision is from and who it _isn't_ from."

Severus quirked his lips and said, somewhat amused, "It seems Mr. Potter has tapped into yet another person's subconscious—however unintentional it was—and even managed to do it during class." _Probably on purpose_, he added silently.

Albus ignored his Potions Master and concentrated on Harry, assuring that he made solid eye contact. Severus was sure that the Headmaster was ascertaining for himself that Potter answered truthfully. Amazing, the Headmaster didn't blindly trust Potter. Of course, the boy had given them all good reason to doubt his word. 

"It was not Voldemort?" 

Severus flinched instinctively and then scowled at the Headmaster. 

Harry said definitively, "No, it was most definitely _not him."_

"How can you be so sure Harry?"

"Albus, why would the Dark Lord send Potter a vision in the middle of my Potions class? What possible purpose could it serve?"

"To interrupt your Potions class Severus? If so, he succeeded," Dumbledore said with some mirth.

Severus whirled around, scowling, expecting to see Potter laughing at him right along with the Headmaster. The scowl dropped from his face as he saw Potter, not sitting but standing, body rigid with anger, his hands tightly fisted. He was glaring angrily at the Headmaster, face slowly reddening. Severus looked at Dumbledore, scowling again, but this time in reproach not anger. The young Mister Potter seemed to have plenty anger for all three of them.

"Albus, that is in no way, shape or form amusing. Any visions related to Him are nothing to joke about. And Mister Potter, unless you wish to give the Dark Lord a look into your life, you must calm down. I know that you feel the need to hit Albus in frustration for his show of amazing lack of tack, I often feel that way also, but you must restrain yourself." 

Severus leveled his stare at the headmaster, thinking of how often he felt that way himself and hoping that Albus heard him. Albus flinched. _Good. He continued silently to himself as he let his words sink in to the boy's incredibly dense head. __After all, if Potter hit him, we would need to get a new Headmaster and I already have Albus thoroughly broken in. It is such a bothersome process, the breaking in of a Headmaster. _

When the boy looked a little less homicidal, Severus sneered nastily and added, "I suggest you venting your anger on someone else, perhaps Peeves. We could always get another Poltergeist, if we even felt the need to replace him."

"Harry, I am sorry. I was only teasing Severus, I meant nothing by it."

"Even if you didn't mean it, it still hurt," Harry said curtly as he slowly sat down. After an awkward moment, Harry spoke, "The reason I know it wasn't Voldemort is because I think it was a dream I witnessed, and I saw the dreamer. It was _not him."_

"Well, then that makes this even more curious," Albus said as he stood. "Do you know of any connection to anyone in the dream?" 

"No, none. Why?"

"There has to be some reason you saw this vision or dream, some connection that caused you to be drawn into the dream." The Headmaster walked over to Fawkes and gazed out the window, absently stroking the phoenix. He turned back towards them, still pondering, "Strange, who would be dreaming at this time of day?"

Severus rolled his eyes and muttered, "Merlin save me from the utter stupidity of Gryffinors and their actions." Louder, he continued, "Perhaps someone in a different country or even continent. I will leave you to it. My patience cannot bear anymore Gryffindors just now. I will be collecting potion ingredients after my final class Headmaster. Good day." 

The Potions Master left the office, thinking about how quiet and serene the forest would be when he got there. Mentally, he added quickly that he was going to forest to collect potion ingredients, not to get away from irritating students or teachers or headmasters.

~@~@~@~

Harry watched, slightly amused, as his cranky Potions Professor insulted the Headmaster. Snape had insulted him too, but that was nothing new; he did it practically every day. But pointing out an obvious observation that the Headmaster overlooked and muttering about the stupidity of Gryffindors in the same breath, that was not something that happened every day. Harry had thoroughly enjoyed it actually and wondered, as Snape left the office, where his professor was off to. He was almost sad to see him go. _Almost._

"Ah, yes—Harry you will have to excuse Severus, he—"

"I understand Headmaster, we are all anxious," Harry said as he turned back to the Headmaster.

"Did anything in the dream give you an indication as the where the dreamer was?"

Harry shook his head negatively. "I couldn't tell where the dreamer was, everyone had different accents: Chinese, African, American and even some British. The dreamer, he spoke with a harsher British accent and one of the girls called him Spike."

"Spike? That is quite a name. What did he look like—no, wait; start at the beginning."

"I think it started with us on the Tube, not one like in London, maybe somewhere in America…"

++

**Time:           ~11:30 GMT **

After he had finished telling the dream, Harry looked at Dumbledore. Dumbledore didn't say anything while he recounted the dream, simply listened. He remained silent for quite some time afterwards, simply continued staring out the window and occasionally stroked Fawkes. Finally, Harry questioned impatiently, "Headmaster?" 

Dumbledore turned then and looked at him. "Ah, Harry, I don't quite know what to make of it. You say you don't recognize anyone?"

"No. Should I?" asked Harry sharply.

"Well, there has to be a reason you had this vision—some sort of connection between you and something in the vision."

Harry sat back and crossed his arms. "Don't ask me—I just have the visions—I'm not meant to understand."

"Harry—please—" Dumbledore pleaded tiredly as he sat himself behind his desk once again. "I am doing the best I can; don't work against me, please."

Harry grumbled unhappily, but did uncross his arms and huffed, "Fine. Any ideas?"

"Maybe—one of the women—you said she was a witch?"

"Yes."

"How do you know?"

Harry closed his eyes, recalling the vision. "Well, at first, she wasn't a witch."

"At first?"

"Yes—she was dressed like a Muggle—she looked the same, but this was a different girl. It's—it's confusing—" Harry stopped, shaking his head in frustration.

"Just take it slow. This Muggle, she changed into the witch?"

"Yes. The face and the body stayed the same, but everything else changed."

"What exactly changed?"

"Um—" Harry trailed off, not quite sure _what_ changed _when, and his head still hurt._

"Okay, start by describing the Muggle."

"The Muggle had long, straight dark brown hair and big blue eyes, slim build. She was dressed in jeans and a shirt. And she was one of the Americans. After she finished scolding the dreamer, her accent changed 'til she sounded similar to me."

"British?" 

Harry nodded and continued, "Then her clothes—shifted, changed into blue robes and her hair changed—"

"How do you know that it was robes and not a Muggle dress?"

"Because they looked like robes," Harry snapped off, angry at being accused of not being able to tell the difference between robes and a dress. _They looked as different as night and day and the Headmaster would know that if he even bothered to pay attention to anything Muggle besides sweets._ With a scowl, he continued, "Like I said, her hair changed, instead of hanging loose like before, was done up some way and then there was a wand tucked behind her ear."

"What ear?"

Harry opened his eyes and gave Dumbledore a confused look and said slowly, "Her left—why?"

Dumbledore smiled in that smug, arrogant way that he had patented and proceeded to patronize Harry in the way he absolutely hated. "Harry, what pocket do you keep your wand in?"

"My right pocket."

"Why?"

"Because I'm right-handed." Getting it, he added, abashed, "So that means the witch is left-handed."

Dumbledore nodded, "Which is not common, even in the Muggle world." Harry nodded also, agreeing. The Headmaster brought them back to the dream by asking, "What happened next?"

Harry closed his eyes again, again trying to recall the details of his vision. After a moment, he had returned to the point in the dream they had stopped at.

"After she had completely shifted into the witch, she said something about going back to the wizarding world, which the dreamer seemed surprised to hear. Then he said her name—I don't think he was sure it was her—he seemed surprised to see her, like he was seeing a ghost."

"What name did he call her?"

"Elizabeth."

"Ahhhh." Dumbledore's eyebrows went up and he leaned back, fingers interlaced, closing his eyes in silent contemplation.

After a long pause, Harry tentatively asked, "Professor?"

Without opening his eyes, Dumbledore responded, "Harry, how old would you say the Muggle is?"

"My age, I guess," Harry answered slowly, once again confused.

"And how old would you say the witch was? Was she the same age?"

Harry paused, thinking, and then answered, "A little older, I think, maybe early 20's." 

Then Harry made a leap, "You recognize her, don't you?"

Dumbledore opened his eyes, his gaze somewhere far away. "If it is who I believe, then you were, indeed, seeing a ghost."

"Who?" Harry demanded, his eyes once again open and fastened onto the slippery headmaster.

"Phineas—I know you are listening—you can come out."

Some grumbling came from Phineas Nigellus's portrait and then he appeared, scowling.

"Hello Sir—how are you?" Harry asked Phineas, surprised at his appearance, but happy to see him none the less.

"Well, Mister Potter. Thank you for asking," Phineas answered courteously. He then smirked and said, very much amused, "A very unique vision you had and in Potions of all classes. I can only assume that Severus was not pleased."

"An understatement," Harry grumbled and Phineas's smirk widened.

"Phineas, did you recognize this 'Elizabeth' that Harry described or is my age affecting my memory?"

"Age, Albus—I never knew you were so funny. Only ever one Elizabeth like that and you are correct, Mr. Potter has seen a ghost. Perhaps two even…" Phineas's voice trailed off.

"Phineas—Elizabeth?"

With an air of importance, he smiled and announced, "The one and only Elizabeth Marianne Crawford Potter."

Harry choked, "Potter? How—?"

Albus responded, "A great-great-great aunt of yours Harry, one that I went to school with actually."

"School—Hogwarts?" A nod. "But she's so young in the vision—dead—?"

"Died from Consumption at age 20. A brilliant witch, Ravenclaw."

"How do you know that it is her?"

"Well, I am not positive, but Elizabeth was the only witch I have ever known to always put her wand behind her ear, her left ear because she was left-handed. Her brothers were constantly stealing her wand, irritated her to no end, but still she kept it behind that ear. She was sometimes quite absentminded, as brilliant minds often are, and frequently misplacing her wand unless she kept it tucked behind her ear."

Harry interrupted, "Her brothers—?"

"Both younger: Richard and William. Richard was your great-great-great-grandfather. It seems we have found our connection."

"Are you sure that woman actually was Elizabeth Potter?" Harry asked suspiciously.

It was Phineas that answered his query while the Headmaster was deep in thought. "Mr. Potter, with the physical description you gave us, her wand and the fact that her first name is Elizabeth, it is the most logical conclusion. Adding the fact that it is you, the great-something-nephew of Elizabeth, are witnessing a dream that has no other connection to you besides the apparent appearance of Elizabeth Potter and her identity is confirmed. A simple deduction."

Harry's mind was spinning. "Of course—simple," he repeated dazedly.

++

**Time:           ~03:00 PST (GMT-8)**

**Location:     Angel's Office: Executive Meeting Room, _Wolfram & Hart_**

                     Los Angeles, CA  USA

~@~@~@~

Spike's head was still pounding and the arguing was not helping. _Why couldn't they just decide and then shut-up!_

After giving a quick overview of his vision on the very-early morning phone conference, the group had quickly assembled at Wolfram and Hart, rousing the entire law firm to life at 3 am. Here Spike had given a much more detailed narrative, recalling as much detail as possible with his migraine. 

The moment he had signaled he was done, the fighting had started. The Watcher liked to call it "discussion" with the "occasional raised voices." _It's amazing how all of them managed to "occasionally" raise their voices at the same time, all the time._

He groaned and laid his head down on the table.

"Hey Uncle Bill," a voice said as a body dropped into the chair next to him. Spike didn't even bother to raise his head to look at the speaker. He only let one person get away with calling him Bill, and only one person had ever wanted to call him Uncle. _Connor. Angel's son._

"Hey kid," Spike said to the table. He sighed and turned his head to blearily look at Connor, asking, "Any sign of them stopping?"

Connor shook his head in the negative and gave Spike a searching look. "Your head hurting?"

Spike snorted, then lifted his head and grimaced, "That would be a yes." He continued to talk as he turned to look at the rest of the table, his voice slowly increasing in volume, "My head hasn't ever stopped hurting since I was ripped from sleep by the vision that _Everyone—__Is—Yelling—About!!"_

At the outburst, everyone else stopped talking immediately and turned to stare at Spike.

Spike rubbed the right side of his forehead, which was hurting him particularly badly, and spoke softly but clearly, "I am going to talk quietly and you will all listen, no one will interrupt because I am the only person in this damned room with first hand knowledge of the Wizarding World—_Okay?_" Spike asked, teeth clenched, and everyone nodded, agreeing. He unclenched his teeth and continued, "Good. Gunn, what official contacts does _Wolfram & Hart have with the wizarding world?"_

Gunn thought a moment; accessing his extensive memory of the law firm and its business dealings, and then answered with a small smile, "Banking."

"With Gringotts?" asked Spike, surprised.

"Yes," was Gunn's succinct reply. 

"Excellent, that will make things a great deal easier. The Goblins will give us instant credibility. How much business do we do with them?"

Gunn's smile increased, "Enough that the President personally deals with us whenever possible. I will contact him." Gunn stood, preparing to leave.

"Good—tell him we will need them to contact the Ministry of Magic on our behalf in a matter of extreme importance." Spike paused and Gunn nodded, pulling out his cell phone and briskly left the room. "Next, we'll need to know of Drusilla is really in Europe."

"Wesley's department will handle that. They have been meticulously recording all vampire activity—"

Spike interrupted Angel, "Why?" 

Connor snorted.

Wesley simply glared at Spike and asked tersely, "Do you _ever pay attention to the weekly briefings?"_

"Not if I can help it, no," Spike responded wryly with a smirk. 

Connor outright laughed at that, but stopped almost immediately when Spike grimaced in pain from the loud noise. "Sorry Uncle," he apologized softly.

"Recording all vampire activity since its dramatic increase three months ago," Angel finished his earlier statement, answering Spike's question in the process. He continued, speaking directly to the Watcher, "Find out if she is on the continent or is already in the UK."

"It will be hard, with the increase in vampire activity, to spot the movements of a single vampire, let alone distinguish _which vampire it is," Wesley stated._

"Just do your best—she dresses very distinctly—use that. If you can't find her, we will work on the assumption she is already in the area of the school," Angel finished and motioned for the Watcher to start the search. 

After Wesley had left, Angel turned back to Spike and asked, "Well, what's next Will?"

"First, do _not _call me that, Peaches," Spike scowled at Angel and Angel return the scowl. After a moment of staring at each other, Spike answered simply, "Weapons."

Angel groaned. "Are you _still_ insisting we go over there? Don't they have people to take care of this stuff?" 

Spike thought that Angel sounded amazingly like a child who didn't want to pick up his toys. _Champion indeed._

"Yes, they have their own version of police, call 'em Aurors. The reason you don't let the police handle supernatural things here in LA is the same reason the Aurors cannot handle Dru there: she will rip them into very small pieces."

Fred piped in with a question just then, "Why us then?"

"What, besides keeping the nice Aurors in one piece? 'Cause, Winnie—Angel and me are the only people that can safely contain Dru. She will listen to us." _Hopefully._

"Then why weapons?"

At this, Spike smiled. It never ceased to amaze him, the petite scientist's continuing naivety. "Winifred, doll, Drusilla is not the nastiest beast in that forest I saw her in. There are enough critters in there to keep the Destroyer here happy for months, if not years."

Connor perked up at that. "Really?" he asked like a kid in a candy store.

Spike chuckled, shaking his head in mirth, "Yeah kid, really. So you see the need for weapons now Winnie?"

Fred nodded, wide-eyed, and asked meekly, "How many people need to be equipped?"

Angel raised his eyebrows at Spike, who nodded and answered, "Three: me, Angel and Con."

"Full setup each?" Angel nodded yes and Fred turned to Spike. "Anything special we need to get together?"

"No. Just make sure these two's swords are sharpened and find the kid's favorite axe, I don't want to hear him whining the entire trip—"

"I do not whine!"

Spike rolled his eyes, "Right. Sharpen my matching short-swords and make sure all scabbards can be tightly secured—basic stuff. Is my collapsible staff finished yet?—if it is, I want that too."

"Yes, they finished it yesterday. Anything else? If not, I will have the weapons prepped."

"Thanks Winnie. Oh—and my brace too!"

Fred just shook her head and yawned as she left the room, waving over her head to Spike in acknowledgment.

"So what do we tell this Ministry?"

"Don't right know. Let Gunn come up with the wording—he's the barrister. They are a bunch of bureaucrats—you know how well I respond to authority." 

Angel snorted, "Almost as well as Connor."

The kid shot his father a dark look, crossed his arms and slouched down in his seat. Spike then scowled at Angel, whose only response was a shrug. Then Connor's face creased with a frown and he leaned over to Spike and asked softly, "What's a barrister and why is Gunn one?"

Spike chuckled and shook his head. He shot an amused glance at Connor and replied, "Another word for a lawyer, kid."

"Oh," Connor said, slouching back in his seat again. 

Spike laughed again and continued his earlier thought, "I'd rather not deal with the bureaucrats or the Ministry of Magic, but we have to go through them to get to the Headmaster."

"Headmaster?" Connor asked.

"Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry." At Connor's still confused look, Spike clarified, "The person who runs the school of magic where I saw Dru." Connor understood that and nodded. Spike continued his earlier thought, "The Headmaster is the only person who can give us access to that forest that Dru will be hiding in."

"How will Drusilla get there? She isn't going to ask first," Connor wondered aloud.

Both Spike and Angel chuckled at that thought, _Drusilla asking permission to go somewhere? Angel answered his son, "No, she won't. She will most likely just sneak in."_

"Then why can't we just sneak in too and avoid all of this stuff?" Connor uncrossed his arms to gesture vaguely around the room, indicating _'this stuff'_- the round-about contacts and bureaucratic nonsense.

"At least two reasons kid: one being that we need to know who it is I saw Dru attacking. To do that, we have to talk to them and to do that, we can't very well have them hunting and trying to kill _us._ And two: we have to get there as soon as possible, as in sometime today. Do you know of anyway to get halfway across the world without magic?"

"No," Connor said sulkily.

Spike chuckled and ruffled the kid's hair. Connor swatted his hands away and then, in a supreme show of maturity, stuck his tongue out in retaliation. The action seemed to trigger something in Spike's memory, something important involving another teen sticking a tongue out at him. But as he tried to grasp onto the memory, it slipped away and dissolved. 

He smirked at Connor and patted his head. "It's okay Con, those were all logical questions and, considering how we usually handle problems, all very good ideas too. We'll probably still have to do a lot of law breaking to get where we need to be, so don't worry, we aren't suddenly becoming law-abiding citizens."

"Technically Uncle, none of us are citizens."

"Details, details, you lil' brat."  
  


"Spike, are you trying to corrupt my son?"

"Trying?" asked Connor at the same time Spike spoke.

"Me, corrupt him?" Spike asked innocently and exchanged grins with Connor. 

Together, they said, "Nah!"

"This headmaster, he is the one we will have to convince that the vision is genuine?" Angel asked, trying to get back on track.

"Yes."

Connor thought for a second and then asked, "To be in charge of a school for magic, the person would have to be a really strong witch?"

"Or wizard, yes," Spike answered.

"So let me get this straight—we have to contact this really strong witch or wizard that runs an entire school for magic and we are doing this through a bank run by Goblins.

"Then we have to convince this strong wizard-person that the vision is true and there will be, in the near future, a strong, insane vampire on the school grounds. 

"Then we are going to ask him to let us, three strong, supernatural creatures, go to his school fully armed and extremely dangerous, to handle this insane vampire," Connor paused in his summary of the mornings events, seeming to be adding things together. 

He seemed to conclude his thinking and finished, incredulously, "So, instead of having _one_ dangerous, supernatural creature loose at his school, he will have _four dangerous, supernatural creatures at his school."_

Angel looked decidedly nervous at his son's words. "Well, if you put it like that—"

Spike glared at Connor, who was grinning in mirth at rattling his father. "Shut-up kid. We are going to ask _nicely_."

"That will make all the difference Spike," Angel spat out.

"Bite me Peaches," Spike growled back. His headache was coming back and it was because of Connor. _God knows he loved the kid, but he had made too much sense._ They were going to have a hell of a time convincing the Headmaster to let them onto the school grounds. _What sensible wizard would agree to let three very dangerous people that he didn't know or trust into a school populated with children that he was charged with protecting?_

"Uncle, you probably shouldn't say things like that to Father, you never know when a vampire will take you up on the offer," Connor said smiling cheekily.

_Damn, the kid had another excellent point. That was all he needed, Angelus biting him._ Spike glanced quickly at Angel and was relieved to see him brooding. _A brooding Angel is an Angel that still has his soul and therefore less likely to bite him. _Less likely, meaning Angel might still decide that it sounded like a good idea._ His head hurt too muchto think anymore. _

Maybe if he went to sleep, the others would solve all the problems and leave him alone so he could rest peacefully, for once. Maybe he could even pick up the thread of the dream he was having before the Vision ripped him from slumber. _Maybe—but highly unlikely.__ Why him?_

Spike growled irritably and laid his head back down on the table, grumbling, "Wake me when Gunn comes back and not a minute sooner or the offending someone will be tossed out the window." _Ten stories—that should do it._

+++

**Notes:** Spike calls people by nicknames, hardly ever using their proper names, so here are the nicknames of the people called about the vision and their proper names:

Angelus                        **Angel **

                                    _Vampire with Soul, Champion for the Light_

Gunn                            **Charles Gunn**

                                    _Supernaturally programmed Lawyer_

Winifred                       **Winifred Burkle**

                                    _Physicist, specialty in Inter-Dimensional Portals_

Watcher Junior             **Wesley Wyndam-Pryce**

                                    _Former Watcher_

Destroyer                     **Connor Angel**

                                    _Son of two Vampires: Angel & Darla_

++


	3. Ch 2: Collisions of Culture

**Worlds Wrought & Ruined**

**_Chapter 2_**

**Spoilers:** _Buffy_ Season 7; _Angel_ Season 4; _Harry Potter_, Books 1 thru 5

**Disclaimer: **Buffy the Vampire Slayer and all associated characters, settings, etc., belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, UPN, etc. Harry Potter and all associated characters, setting, props, etc., belong to J.K. Rowling, Scholastic Inc., etc. No copyright infringement is intended.

**Notes:** The nicknames of Angel's Crew are at the end of Chapter 1. FYI.

Thanks to my brilliant Beta **Lady Lestrange**. Without her, I would never have had the courage to write this story, let alone post it.

More thanks to my fellows at **The_Seers_Truth** group for reading my story and giving it a chance, even though it isn't strictly Harry Potter.

And **Silverfox1**, **Trillium**, **Reiven**, **Radia**, **miz**, & **Lady Lestrange** - thanks for all reviewing - it is definitely _sisshauss_.

**+++**

**Chapter 2**

**_Collisions of Culture_**

**+++**

**Time:**           ~15:45 GMT 

**Location:**     Headmaster's Office, _Hogwarts__School__ of Witchcraft and Wizardry _

                     Scotland UK

~@~@~@~

"Auror Tonks. A pleasure to see you."

"I wish I could say the same Headmaster."

"Well, that doesn't sound very encouraging. How can I be of service?"

"We have-a situation. There has been a-request made to the Ministry for your audience."

"Really? And causing an upheaval at the Ministry-this requestor must be very interesting." He chuckled. "So, who is it that is requesting my presence and causing such a commotion?"

"Ah," Tonks coughed nervously, "the President of Gringotts."

Albus raised his eyebrows with a smile on his face. "Really? I did not know that Gringotts routinely made requests of the Ministry of Magic to talk to headmasters of schools that teach non-goblins?"

Tonks glared at him and snapped, "You rightly know that they do not-that is the reason for the situation at the Ministry-the Minister is beside himself."

Albus began chuckling despite the glare from the Auror. "I am sorry Nymphadora-I was only imagining Cornelius's face when he saw the name on the request-excuse my attempt at humor. Please, sit. Tea?"

"No thank you," Tonks said as she took a seat on the edge of one of the chairs.

"Well, why does the President of Gringotts wish to meet with me?"

Tonks groaned, "If only it were that simple." Dumbledore simply raised an eyebrow in question as he made himself a cup of tea. "See, that is where things get-worse. The President of Gringotts isn't the one that wants to meet with you. They contacted the Ministry on behalf of a client of theirs."

"Must be a very important client," Albus mused.

"Probably-I don't know," Tonks said irritably and shifted in her seat. "So it is their client-a soliciting firm-that wishes to speak with you."

"And what type of solicitors do business with Goblins but cannot contact the Ministry themselves?"

"The kind with its office in California."

"And they did not go through the American MoM?" Albus asked quizzically as he sat behind his desk.

"No-they, ah, are not a wizarding firm-they are-oh, what did they call themselves-ah, yes, a Supernatural Law firm."

Albus chuckled. "Even more intriguing. Why are these 'Supernatural Solicitors' interested in me?"

Tonks made solid eye contact with the Headmaster, conveying the seriousness of the issue, and said solemnly, "Their Seer had a vision this morning of Hogwarts."

Albus sobered immediately. "Oh dear. I take it the vision was not a good one."

Tonks shook her head negative and snorted slightly, "No, the vision was decidedly not a good one." The Auror stood and started riffling through her robes. "Here is the parchment the Goblins hand delivered to the Ministry," she said as she pulled out a folded piece of paper and handed it to the Headmaster. Then she fell back into her chair and put her head in her hands.

In neat ink strokes made by a quill, the message began:

****URGENT****

**Seer, Wolfram & Hart, 02:17 PST September 20-Vision: Danger at Hogwarts Imminent-foreseen death. Request an immediate audience with Headmaster for permission to enter the school grounds in order to neutralize threat. Specifics withheld until meeting with Headmaster.**

**~ Gringotts on behalf of _Wolfram & Hart_******

Added to this in a semi-legible scrawl with violent ink strokes, written with a red ink pen:

_Do **NOT **attempt to handle this threat without our assistance as it will only end in the Death and/or Dismemberment of All Aurors involved. Pieces of their bodies will be scattered from the front gates of Hogwarts to the __Forbidden__Forest__. The details will be released to **ONLY** the Headmaster of Hogwarts and No-One-Else, no matter how self-important the git thinks he is!!!_

Then under that, in neat handwriting and black ink:

Excuse our Seer, he is-ah-still upset by our most recent visitor. Please do not send anyone else without also bringing the headmaster of the magic school.

~ CEO, _Wolfram & Hart_

c/o Gringotts

"Oh dear, quite the missive," Dumbledore said. Tonks simply nodded, repressing a scowl. Albus smiled at her obvious anger and continued, "Don't take it personally; it sounds like they only have the Aurors' best interests in mind."

Tonks jumped up from her seat, knocking it backwards and began to angrily rant, "What right do they have-they aren't even wizards-how do _they_ know we can't handle the threat?! We apprehend Dark Wizards-urgh! Are we now taking orders from _Muggles_!?"

"My dear Auror, if the Seer is a Muggle, how does he know the vision is at Hogwarts?"

"Oh," she mouthed softly and went to sit back down, only to find the chair knocked on its back. As she set the chair right she continued somewhat meekly, "Not a Muggle then?"

"I don't know." Dumbledore looked back down at the message and then back up at Tonks, who had set the chair on her robes. He asked, "Am I right to assume this is not the original version of this message?"

"No, it isn't," she said petulantly, pulling at her robes and managed to pull out enough so that she could sit down.

"Who was it that upset the Seer?"

She looked at the ground, pulling at her robes absently, then smoothing them and mumbled something incomprehensible.

"Pardon?"

She cleared her throat and said, still looking at her feet, "The Minister."

Albus chuckled and Tonks looked up, scowling, "It is _not _funny-he embarrassed the entire Ministry with his behavior."

Albus attempted to keep his mirth to himself. "Ah, why did Cornelius feel the need to visit California?"

Tonks answered hesitantly, "He-ah-wanted to take care of it himself because-I believe-he said he didn't want to bother you. The minister was ready to send any number of Aurors over here to take care of the problem, but-uh-"

"I understand," said Dumbledore. "First he had to find out exactly what the problem is and the Seer is the one with the details. It was not a bad idea; I do think that he was truly trying to not disturb me. How did he get to the Seer?"

"The Goblins set up a portkey to the solicitor's firm. The Minister was-uh-not very happy when he got back."

"By the tone of the note, neither was the Seer."

Tonks chuckled a little at that, "Yes, the note is quite venomous. The Minister-he came storming into our department, muttering about the Seer and how rude he was and," Tonks cleared her throat and lowered her voice, imitating the Minister, "'How _dare_ a low-life like him treat _me_ like that.' Then he threw up his hands and said that the Headmaster could take care of this anyway he sees fit." 

She shrugged her shoulders and began to fiddle with her wand absently instead of her robes, "He threw the note at Shacklebolt and-ah-for lack of a better word-stomped out, still complaining about the Seer and what kind of a name is 'Spike.' Then Shacklebolt sent me here to talk to you."

Albus stood, walking over to the window that was letting in the waning sunlight and looked at the note again. Without looking up, he asked absently, "Are you sure Cornelius said that the Seer's name was Spike?"

"Yes Headmaster, very sure, that was one of his points of irritation that he was loudest about." She stopped fiddling with her wand for a moment and gave Dumbledore a curious look. "Why?"

Albus lifted his head and smiled at her, responding, "Just something Mr. Potter mentioned this morning." He walked back to his desk, pocketing the note. "Well, we had better go see what this Seer saw. Are you to accompany me?"

Tonks stood, dropping her wand and, red faced, bent down to retrieve her wand while responding, "Yes, I have to fire-call Auror Shacklebolt first-"

"Go ahead and use my fire. I will go tell Minerva that I have been called away," and he walked to the door, stopping just inside and turned back to Tonks. "Nymphadora, is the time difference between here and California about 9 hours?"

Tonks now had her wand and was trying to retain possession of it as she attempted to remove the last of her robes from underneath the chair while simultaneously blowing her black hair out of her eyes. She answered, after thinking for a moment, "Eight sir."

"Ah, of course. I will be back soon and please tell Kingsley hello for me."

She swiped the hair from her face and nodded, "Of course Headmaster."

As Dumbledore walked out the door, he chided her, "Albus, please call me Albus."

"Yes Headmaster."

His light laughter echoed through the spiral staircase.

~@~@~

**Time:** ~16:00 GMT

"Are you sure about this Professor?"

"Of course. Why shouldn't I be?"

"Because we are using an unknown portkey-"

"That was spelled by the Goblins."

"-to who-knows-where-"

"It took Cornelius to the Seer."

"-to talk to people we don't know, people who are not members of the wizarding community, but work at a Supernatural firm. It could be a trap-"

"Nymphadora, you know it isn't-the President of Gringotts has vouched for this firm and specifically for this Seer."

"And if the vision isn't true-?"

"Then all we have lost is a little time, but what happens if the true and we ignore it?"

"People could die," Tonks said softly.

"Yes. But I do want you to keep being skeptical and suspicious when we get there-just not about me."

She laughed and said, "You mean that I should act like a good, paranoid Auror just like Moody taught me to be?"

"Exactly my dear, exactly. What is the word to activate the portkey?"

"The Destroyer."

"Interesting key-words." He cleared his voice and tapped the portkey with his wand will intoning, **_"The Destroyer."_**

++

**Time:**           ~8:00 PST (GMT-8)

**Location:**     Angel's Office: Executive Meeting Room, _Wolfram & Hart_

                     Los Angeles, CA  USA

"_Holy hell in a hand basket!! _Can you people _not_," emphasized by a stomp of a foot, "do that-give some warning or something. Appearing out of thin air-some of us are delicate and scare easily."

At the last comment, there were snorts of amusement from most of the room, but Tonks and Dumbledore vaguely heard it. The visiting wizards were still disoriented-going halfway around the world by portkey was never pleasant.

"Lorne, you aren't required to be here," a black man in an impeccable suit said to the previous speaker.

"I know, I know, sugar cakes. I just want to know what our Blue-Eyed-Beauty saw last night," the first speaker replied, a man that was-_green_? Albus immediately removed his glasses and cleaned them. He inwardly groaned when he replaced his glasses and the man was still green and had-_horns_? _Oh Merlin_.

"Be glad you weren't woken up in the dead of night," the black man said.

"Hey, you are the one wanting to be notified for Alpha-one visions," a small girl with glasses, hair messily collected on the top of her head, chastised the black man.

"Well I need to be-"

"So stop yer bitchin' Gunn and shut yer trap. I _still_ have a migraine and I did not ask for these bleedin' visions. You have a choice. I don't," growled a voice from the far end of the table where there were two figures: one sitting, head bent down toward the table, the other standing behind him, arms crossed over his chest. The standing figure was glaring at the black man who the seated man, evidently the Seer, had told to be quiet.

"Ah, so _you_ are the Seer."

Growling, "Unfortunately." After some mumbling, he continued without looking up, his light brown hair hanging down to cover his face, "And _you_ are our latest visitors. If one of you isn't the Headmaster of 'ogwarts, 'm gonna let the Destroyer here use you for target practice. He's getting rusty-" The boy standing behind the Seer hit the Seer's chair and the Seer chuckled, "See-he was aimin' for my 'ead and 'e hit my chair."

The boy went from scowling to laughing, "Wrong Uncle, I just didn't want to add to your head pain." 

The Seer tilted his head to the side, the light glinting off of his eye-glasses, and said quietly, "Thanks kid."

The black man in an immaculate suit walked up to them and offered his hand, "Charles Gunn, sorry for not greeting you immediately." He rolled his eyes in the direction of the Seer and the boy, "Sometimes I feel like I work with the Mad Hatter and his sidekick, the March Hare. I sincerely hope one of you is the Headmaster, for _all _our sakes."

Albus took his hand and gave a firm handshake while smiling, "Fortunate for us then. I am Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry." Motioning to Tonks, he introduced her, "Auror Tonks of the Ministry of Magic." Tonks also shook his hand.

"Thank you for coming. Please call me Gunn. Good," he sighed, visibly relieved. "Spike, as you pointed out, is our Seer and his mood has just gotten worse as the day has progressed and then that man, Fudge-"

"Our Minister of Magic, yes-" But the Seer cut the Headmaster off, shouting angrily in their general direction.

"Don' you bloody talk about tha' wanker! He's god damned lucky I couldn' reach him-low-life Muggle-" he clenched his hands into fists, knuckles turning white, the pencil in his left hand snapping. The boy put a hand on the Seer's back, the other hand on top of the Seer's right hand and bent his head to talk to angry man.

Gunn cleared his throat and continued, "I apologize for Spike; he is-uh-today had not been a good day. I'm the Head Council here at Wolfram & Hart. Please, have a seat if it makes you more comfortable. We are waiting for the CEO of the firm and the Head of Supernatural Activity before we proceed." He sighed and, shaking his head exasperatedly, said, "Since I have no idea when they are planning on coming back, I will go retrieve them. Please excuse me." He walked out of the room.

The woman that had been talking with the green-person and Gunn earlier, stood up and walked over to them and extended her hand, babbling quickly, "Hi, so glad that you could come. It is nice to meet you both. My name is Fred, Winifred Burkle, and I am the Head of Technology Research and Development, which includes New Weapon Development, very New Age Technology stuff." Albus took the exited woman's hand as she continued talking, "Titanium, composites, and our computers-"

Then, just as quickly as she was speaking, she extended her hand to Tonks and witched topics, "So you're an Auror. There were some here earlier, but after Spike got so agitated, he and Angel kicked them out. Spike doesn't usually get riled so easily, I don't know what is with him today. So you are a policeman-_errr_-policewoman for magic people. I bet you see all kinds of mean people, just like we do, except some of them are our clients and you probably arrest all the ones you meet. Do you use a gun?"

Tonks, after shaking Fred's hand, was trying to keep up with what she was saying. When Fred had stopped and looked at her expectantly, she realized that the hyper woman had asked her a question. She blinked and replied, "A gun? Why would I have a gun?"

It was Fred's turn to blink at them. "Why wouldn't you have a gun? All of our police use guns. I guess magical police don't use guns then."

Albus answered for the confounded Auror, "My dear, in our country, our law enforcement does not carry firearms."

"Really?" She blinked and then asked, perplexed, "Why?"

"Because, kitten, not all countries let citizens own firearms." The green person had walked up behind Fred and joined the conversation. "Actually, it is illegal to possess, own, or discharge firearms in most countries. The United Kingdom is one of them."

"Oh. Wow. I've never really thought about people _not_ owning guns. Where I'm from, Texas, everyone has guns. My family had quite a few and I even had one before I came to LA for college. You really can't own guns-of any kind?"

Tonks answered, "No. Not in the Muggle or Magical part of our country."

"Muggle-what does that mean? That mean little Fudge fellow called Spike that, like he was telling Spike that he was sub-human or worthless. I think that was when Spike tried to kill him."

"It was," the green person affirmed, turning to look at the two at the far end of the room. The boy had sat down next to the Seer and they seemed to be talking while they wrote on parchment with another writing utensil. The Seer seemed calmer, but his back was still somewhat tense. Then he laid his head on the table. He had said he had a migraine; the outburst must have made his head hurt more. Albus tuned back into the conversation as Tonks explained to Fred what Muggle meant.

"Muggle is what witches and wizards call non-magical people. It is not meant as an insult, but some people, who think that being a wizard makes them better and more important than Muggles, will use it as an insult."

"By the way the Seer reacted to being called that, it makes me think that he is a wizard."

Fred and her companion exchanged glances and just started laughing.

"Spike-a _wizard_?" Fred got out before she started laughing again and then shook his head negatively. "Any magic we do, Spike stays as _far_ away as he can and absolutely refuses to participate unless it is absolutely necessary."

"Even then, Angel-cakes has to force him to help," the green man said.

"Magic?" Tonks asked. "You perform _magic_-I thought you weren't witches or wizards."

"We aren't, but we do magic sometimes," the hyper girl affirmed. "Wesley does most of it-maybe he is a wizard."

"He isn't," the Seer said quietly.

"How do you know?" Albus asked, just as quietly.

"Cuz he doesn' have a wand and doesn' use one to do his magic. But the main reason is cuz he's a Watcher."

"But he's not a Watcher anymore-"

"But 'e was-that is the point, Lorne-by the way, the green bloke's name is Lorne since 'e didn' introduce 'imself."

"Oh dear, my manners, I am so sorry. Like dear William said, my name is Lorne." 

Immediately, there was a snarl in the background from the Seer, "Lorne, don't call me that!"

The green fellow ignored the Seer and took Albus's hand and shook it. Then his eyes went wide and he became excited. "Would you want to sing for me-your aura is simply amazing and I am only shaking your hand-oh, sorry." He dropped the hand and then shook Tonks hand, his smile even bigger. "You too sugar. _Wow._"

"Sing?"

"I'm an allegoric demon and-"

"Demon!" Tonks took out her wand and pointed it at Lorne.

A flash of movement and Tonks' wand was no longer in her hand and the boy who had been with the Seer was now standing in front of Fred and Lorne. His arms were crossed, Tonks' wand in one hand.

The boy seemed to snarl at Tonks, "The Host did nothing to you, isn't even armed, and you attacked him-why?"

"I didn't actually attack him-"

"You would have if I hadn't taken your weapon. Why?" He spread his feet out wider and slipped Tonks' wand to-somewhere-on his person.

"He's a demon," Tonks said weakly.

"And-?" the boy waited but the Auror didn't add anything and that seemed to make him angrier. "That's it!! You attack him simply because he_ tells_ you he's a demon!" Again, when Tonks said nothing else, he became more enraged. 

The boy turned and stalked to the back of the room, ignoring a plaintive cry from the policewoman about her wand, standing behind the Seer and crossed his arms across his chest. He scowled darkly at the two new arrivals but spoke to the Seer, "This-is-stupid! I don't care anymore-let Drusilla kill as many of them as she wants! They obviously don't want to be helped-they wanted to take an army of people-like this woman-to kill her. Fine. Let them do it."

"We can't kid."

"Why not Uncle? That short man insulted you badly-if you had told me what he meant when he said it, I would have killed him for you. No one has the right to call you those things, especially when you are trying to help them. And this one-Lorne simply says he is a demon and she pulls out her stick-or is it a _really_ skinny stake?"

The Seer laughed, "It's a wand, Con, and you are right, she shouldn't have done that. But sometimes people are close-minded about things. I seem to remember hearing stories about a certain Destroyer doing things very similar."

"Whose been telling such lies?" the boy said, face serious.

"Yer Dad, that's who."

The boy smiled at that, "Well, then they probably are true. But still, I tried to kill Lorne or anything else non-human the second I saw them. _She_ didn't try until he said he was a demon." He looked up and directed the next comment to the newcomers, "Did you _not _notice his horns or his green skin?"

The Seer added, lifting an eyebrow, "Or his suits?" They laughed lightly at that.

"My suits are nice," Lorne said petulantly, smoothing his suit coat. 

"Only a demon would _dream_ of trying to pull off an outfit like that-don't get me wrong-you pull it off wonderfully Lorne-but could you see a human walking around in a suit like that?" Fred said, patting his arm.

"No," Lorne chuckled, "I suppose not. So, what is wrong Miss Tonks?"  
  


"You're a-you're a demon!"

Lorne nodded his head slowly, "A peaceful one, yes. I am a pacifist; I abhor violence. A good mixed drink and some good music and I am happy. Now Connor is a different story."

"Connor?" Tonks asked, very confused. Lorne walked over to the bar in the meeting room and quietly mixed a drink as he spoke to Tonks over his shoulder.

"The kid who took your-what did you call it Blue-Eyes-ah, yes, your wand."

"Oh-him," Tonks said dully. "Didn't the Seer call him Destroyer or something like that?"

"Yes, Spike did. Destroyer is a-nickname-you could say. His given name is Connor Angel."

"A pansy name if I ever heard one," the Seer muttered.

"Like William is any better," the boy shot back. At that, the Seer swatted at Connor the best he could without picking up his head.

"'S the name my mum gave me, so don' say anythin'. I'm just saying yer Dad gave you a pansy name because 'e's a pansy 'imself."

The boy thought for a moment and then nodded with a small smile, "Okay."

"Where's Peaches anyway?"

"With Wesley. Gunn went to get them both," the boy answered the Seer.

"Wake me when they get here."

"Will do Uncle," he affirmed and then walked over to the group and looked at all of them, motioning them to the other end of the table, as far from the Seer as they could get. Then he walked to that end of the table, tapping the green demon on the shoulder as he walked by, and sat down. When the other four people had sat, he hissed at them, "We are going to talk about-this-and we are going to do it quietly. Spike is miserable and you will not make it worse. _Got it?_" 

They all nodded. "Good." He turned to look directly at Tonks and spoke, "So you only have a problem with Lorne because he is a demon-right?" She nodded. "Then we have a _serious_ problem." He sat back, scowling and crossed his arms.

"Why do we have a serious problem, my boy?" The boy didn't answer Albus, just scowled more and then turned away to look toward the other end of the table. "Connor?"

Connor remained silent and, instead, Fred responded to the Headmaster, "Oh, he won't answer you now. He hates anyone calling him 'boy'-well, except for Spike. I know you didn't mean anything by it. It is just the way Connor is. I can answer your question though. I don't know about in your world, but in ours, demon doesn't always automatically mean enemy or dangerous. This Law Firm is supernatural, meaning we specialize in clients that are non-human." She smiled meekly, "Right now, in this building, demons and other types of supernatural creatures outnumber the humans-what, 2-to-1?"

"More like 3-to-1," Lorne amended. Then he added, "And they are mostly a whole heck of a lot stronger than you."

"Do you have to have your stick-er," Fred started to ask, but paused, looking at Tonks for the correct word.

"Wand," the Auror corrected. 

"Right-Wand for your magic?"

"Yes," Albus answered. Tonks simply nodded miserably; after all _she_ didn't have hers anymore. Albus had a good idea where this conversation was heading and thought maybe he should join in. 

Albus continued Fred's train of thought, "And that makes us _very_ vulnerable to anyone that can take our wands. By young Connor's display, we could be in a great amount of trouble if faced with someone that moves like him at close range. And I fear that the threat to the school moves just as fast, or faster, than Connor." 

"Very good-you are exactly right," Connor said without turning to look at them. "And if you don't accept the help of_ some_ demons, that threat will remain just that," he paused and turned to them, looking straight into Albus's eyes, "A threat. One that will kill. So think about that while we wait for my Father to get back." 

The Destroyer stood and, looking down at them, said disdainfully, "If it was left up to _me_, I would let your superior magical selves go back to your school with your wands and your magic and deal with the threat _by_ _yourselves_. You are lucky it is not up to me-I would leave you to die. Evidently Uncle is more kind and forgiving than me and, the funny thing is, I'm more fully human than he is." Then he smiled, the bone chilling smile of a cold-blooded killer, and walked back to his Uncle. 

Fred smiled and apologized for Connor's behavior, but Albus did notice one thing: she never corrected a thing the boy said or even said that he had been exaggerating. She merely apologized for the brisk, angry manner he had said it. Then she mentioned something about 'checking on the boys' and, after excusing herself, walked out of the office. 

The green demon, Lorne, simply sat singing softly next to them, drinking something colorful he had brought from the bar. He seemed the least perturbed by the whole thing. _Funny, since Nymphadora had pulled her wand on him, and now he was sitting next to her, calm as can be._ Albus got the disturbing impression that this sort of thing, fights and demons, happened here all the time.

That young boy's smile also disturbed him a great deal more than he had let on. The smile reminded Albus of another angry young boy. Tom, however, had been a great deal older before he had gotten that cold look. Thinking back to the conversation earlier, he had the impression that when the boy had said he would have killed Cornelius for the Seer, he had meant it literally. _More fully human? Who were these people? And if they were offering the help, what was the threat?_

Albus turned his head toward the doorway as his thoughts were interrupted by voices he heard echoing in the hallway to the room.

"The vampire attacks keep increasing, both in frequency and size, all over the world. We thought it was getting bad _here_-Europe is a minefield. The strange thing is, when we brought all of the European activity into the picture, we are starting to see a bizarre pattern," said a man with an educated, proper British accent.

"The attacks are not random?" The second was also male, but American.

"No, they are actually very specific and, God help us, they seem to be-organizing-for lack of a better word. The only good news is that they are only organizing in Europe," the first man said and then added after a pause, "For now."

"Keep on top of it-see if we can anticipate the next attack. Don't give me that look Wes, just start on it. Hopefully we'll be back before we run into any of the activity over there," the second voice said tiredly.

Then laughter of a man. "With your luck man-you are going to land _right_ in the middle of that mess Wesley is recording and analyzing," the solicitor named Gunn was saying as he came walking into the room. 

Two men followed him, one wearing glasses with an academic air about him, probably the first man, the other dressed in black, very solid looking with hair that seemed to stand straight on end, and carrying a black duffel bag, evidently the second man. Gunn was also carrying a black duffel bag which he dropped near the far end of the table, near the Seer. Winifred followed them in after a moment, with a third black duffel bag that seemed to longer and skinnier than the other two. She also placed the bag at the far end of the table.

Lorne shot out of his seat when he saw the man in black walk in and walked over to him. "Angel-cakes, so good to see you. How are you today?"

The man looked suspiciously at the green demon and asked guardedly, "Lorne, what have you done?" 

Albus chuckled at this; _this man must be Connor's father. Only a parent or a teacher has a reaction like that to a suspicious greeting like that._

Gunn also had his gaze on the green demon and raised his eyebrows, questioning, "Lorne, my man, isn't it a little early in the day to be drinking?"

Lorne shook slightly and said vehemently, "Most definitely not." _Maybe he wasn't as unperturbed as he had seemed._

"Actually, Father, Lorne didn't do anything," Connor's lips quirked as he shot a glance at Albus and Tonks. "He just wants to make sure you know he didn't do anything to our visitors to provoke them." The boy shot a meaningful glance at his father and then turned his nasty smile on the new arrivals. "They did it all on their own."

"Connor," the father looked at the ceiling, "just _tell_ me you didn't try to kill them."

He scowled at his father, "No, not yet. I _want_ to send them back now-_alone_-let Drusilla kill them; they are none of our concern."

"Connor, we can't do that-"

"_Why_ do both you and Uncle keep saying that!? All they've done is belittle, condescend, insult, attack or just plain disregard us and our opinions." He left his Uncle's side, walking closer to his Father. "They-" he waved his hand in Albus and Tonks direction, "aren't a part of our world-they have their own world and they do-not-want us to be a part of it. All of this wizarding stuff only seems to be hurting Uncle terribly-it is achieving nothing else!! They will hurt us if we go-even _if_ it is to help them." 

He pulled out Tonks' wand and showed it to his Father. "She pulled _this_ on Lorne when he said he was a demon-even though he had made no aggressive moves, even though she had been perfectly fine in his presence a second before, at the word _Demon_ she attacked!" 

Tonks grumbled under her breath, "Tried to, never got the chance," and then ducked her head down when the Father seemed to hear her and looked sharply in her direction.

The boy also turned his stare on the visitors, his eyes full of fire, seeming to take on an almost feral yellow color-_like Remus._ "If we go with them, they _will_ hurt us for being-different-not like them-"

"Connor-kid-calm down." The Seer had rose partway from his seat and had his left hand on the enraged teens shoulder. "I know you are worried for me and your pop, but you have to remember that we are _Extremely_ hard to kill-_hey_, look at me when I am talking to you," he demanded softly. Connor slowly turned his head and looked into the Seer's eyes. 

The Seer tapped on of the teen's hands, the one holding the wand. "Who has the Auror's wand? She sure doesn't. She didn't even get a spell _started_ before you had the wand." 

He took the wand from the teen's grasp and held it awkwardly with his right hand, keeping his left hand on the teen's back. "You made the point to them earlier and I am making it to you now: without their wands, they are vulnerable and they need our help. They can try to hurt us-" he stopped suddenly as one hand slipped and the Seer seemed to loose balance, falling to the floor until Connor caught him.

"Damn it Spike, you know you aren't supposed to stand without your brace!" Fred yelled.

As Connor was helping the Seer into his seat, he looked over at Fred, who had rushed over to him and smirked, "Thought stopping the kid from killin' our guests was more important. Anyways, I don't _have_ my brace to use, do I?"

"I know, I know. It is right here, we had to make some changes, but it is good to go now." Fred was digging through one of the duffle bags and pulled out a metal brace, "Hah! Here it is."

 "Thanks luv," the Seer said to Fred and then turned to the two men who came in with Gunn. "Since the Destroyer here seems to be done with his temper-tantrum," he glanced quickly at the boy and when the boy nodded, the Seer turned to the men once again, "let's move on. We ready?"

"Yes," the one with glasses sighed and slumped into a seat, massaging his head. "She _is_ in Europe. That is the most specific we could get."

"Damn!" the Seer hissed angrily, hanging his head again and then motioned one hand at Albus. "Don't be rude Watcher, introduce yourself. You too Peaches. With Dru in Europe, we have to get a move on and the clock is tickin'."

"Spike reminding me of my manners-what will come next?" the Father muttered under his breath, but evidently the Seer heard him.

"Remind me-which one of us Gentry?"

The father scowled back and retorted, "Which one of us acts like it?"

The Seer grinned cheekily, "True and wouldn' 'ave it any other way."

The father shook his head as he came to stand in front of the Headmaster; both Dumbledore and Tonks stood, not quite knowing what to expect after the son's outburst. "Angel, CEO of Wolfram & Hart," he said as he extended his hand. Albus shook it for a second and froze. Angel looked at the clasped hands and then got a bashful look on his face, withdrawing his hand. "Sorry, I forget my hands are cold."

Albus was gazing at Angel with a very calculating look, locating his wand with his now free right hand, and said slowly, "You are a vampire."

"Yes I am," and he shrugged, like it was nothing. 

Tonks had gone rigid next to Albus, holding tightly onto his left arm, fidgeting because she _didn't_ have her wand. Albus casually looked around the room; no one seemed to be surprised at the revelation, which meant they already knew. They also kept company with demons. _Oh Dear, this could very well be a trap and they had already taken Tonks' wand.wait-_

"I thought Connor was your son?" Albus asked puzzled.

"He is."

"He's a vampire too?"

"No, not a Childe, he is my living biological son. And please," forestalling questions by holding up a hand, "don't ask me _how_-we have no idea. His mother was a vampire too. But he is human," Angel finished.

"Mostly," added Connor and Spike together.

Angel whirled and pointed at them, "You two are not helping. Can't you tell we are spooking the wizards? Be quiet or I will separate you."

The boy and the Seer looked at each other and burst out laughing.

"Okay, maybe I can't, but it doesn't mean you two have to be purposely difficult."

"No, but we can try," the Seer mumbled, still laughing. The father looked pointedly at the wizards and then back at the Seer and he relented. "Ok, ok, I'll try to behave. Anyways, yer the _good_ vampire-everyone knows it."

Tonks repeated incredulously, squeaking, "_Good_ vampire?"

Albus's brain had started to turn at the word _Vampire_. One named Angel. Another, the threat to the school evidently, named Drusilla. A family member-William. A third vampire, a female, the mother of the boy.

"Connor, your mother's name doesn't happen to be Darla?"

The boy nodded. Immediately, Angel stiffened. The Seer stiffened as well and for the first time that evening looked straight at Albus. _And the fourth vampire, a man named William that the son of the Vampire Angel calls Uncle._ Albus looked back, saying calmly, and not letting the dread he felt creep into his voice, "William the Bloody, I presume?"

The Seer just continued to stare, his eyes meeting the Headmaster's eyes. Finally he spoke, looking away, "If you don' want our 'elp, leave now. Drusilla is the threat. She will attack someone while 'e is in the Forbidden Forest. I have no idea when, but it will be soon cuz, by all reports, she is already in Europe."

"What help are you offering?"

"Headmaster-" Tonks protested, aghast at even the _prospect_ of utilizing the help a _vampire _offered.

"What help?" Albus asked again, turning to Angel, or more appropriately, _Angelus_.

"We go with you to your school and do our best to keep Dru from killing anyone. Then we will take her back here with us regardless. Do not fool yourself; anyone you send after her, she can and will rip to shreds."

"We have handled vampires before-what makes this one different?" Tonks asked obstinately. _Not many_, Albus thought, _and not at the School while school was in session and also while the threat of a Dark Lord hung over their heads._

The Seer muttered under his breath, "Well, first _you _don't 'ave a wand." Tonks immediately glared him.

Angel's voice overrode the Seer's as he answered, "She is a Master Vampire and a Childe of the Order of Aurelius. The last person who managed to kill a Master Vampire of the Order-she had to die in order to do it-so she died."

Tonks swallowed nervously, her temporary anger leaving her for fright and turned to Angel. "If this vampire is so tough, how are you going to handle her?"

"There have only ever been two people Drusilla has obeyed: myself and Spike," he shifted his face to his demonic one. "She _will_ listen to me because I am her Sire. She will listen to _Spike_ because he is her Childe and companion for over a hundred years. If not, we _will_ take care of her." He shifted his face back and turned back to Albus. "You have nothing to fear from us." 

Albus nodded, but inwardly _he highly doubted that_. He looked at the gentleman with glasses. "The Seer called you a Watcher-are you one?"

He nodded, taking off his glasses and cleaning them. This sent the Seer into hysterics. The boy leaned over, asking a question and the Seer started to explain. The Watcher replaced his glasses, giving a sharp look to the Seer before speaking, "I _was_ a Watcher. Wesley Wyndam-Pryce." He offered his hand and the Headmaster took it, shaking it absently. 

The Headmaster looked the Watcher in the eye, making sure that he got an honest answer, and firmly asked, "Do you trust these vampires?"

"Do you mean Angel and Spike? If so, yes; I trust them with my life." He paused for a second and then added with a small smile, "Angel more so than Spike."

"Hey!" A ball of paper hit the Watcher in the head.

"Why-why do you want to help us?" Tonks asked nervously.

Fred answered simply, "Because it is what we do: Help people."

"But two vampires-?"

"One vampire," the Watcher corrected absently.

"One?" Tonks asked, confused. The Seer spoke.

"I'm not a vampire anymore."

"Interesting trick," mused Dumbledore aloud.

"Not really," the Seer grumbled. "Died, savin' the world and all, finally gonna get some _rest_ and then they bring me back to life to send me mind-splitting visions so that Angelus can run around, playing _hero_. Really would've rathered stay dead." He sobered suddenly and locked eyes with Angelus, saying sadly, "Now I know how Buffy felt." The vampire stiffened at the soft comment, his face slowly reflecting the grief and sadness in the Seer's voice.

"And why should we believe anything anyone of you has to say?" Tonks rattled off frantically, nervously. "Sounds like fantastic fiction. Headmaster, we should just leave," Tonks said, standing and knocking over her chair for the second time that day.

The boy straightened hearing this and looked at them, smiling that cold smile, "Finally, the policewoman is showing sense. Leave." Tonks took an involuntary step back at that smile being directed at her.

Then she straightened, collecting herself, and said firmly, abet nervously, "Not without my wand." 

Albus didn't move; he was still looking curiously at the Seer. _He died and was brought back to life to see visions? Why? How Buffy felt-another brought back from the dead? Inconceivable.  And yet-if he was a vampire, presently or only in the past, how did he know things only a wizard should?_

"How did you know the vision was of Hogwarts?" Albus asked. The vampire broke his gaze away from the Seer and turned to the Headmaster at hearing the question.

"Spike told us that's where the vision took place," Angel said simply.

"And how does your Seer know what Hogwarts looks like?" Albus asked, watching the Seer closely.

Spike shrugged his shoulders and answered softly, "Cuz."

"How do you know the vision wasn't at some other castle?"

Spike growled and raised his head, looking at Albus with feral yellow eyes. Albus started slightly. "I think after spending 7 bloomin' years there, I'd know what the damned castle looks like, _Headmaster_." He lowered his eyes and shook his head, tone no longer angry, but weary, "It's changed a little, but not enough I don't recognize it." The Seer lifted his head again, cocking it to one side and asked, "But what in bleedin' hell is that monstrosity of a tree doing on the grounds?" 

The Seer turned to the boy and smiled, "You'd like this tree, Destroyer; it hits back and it is one _huge_ tree. I bet it could give you a run for your money." The boy just snorted and shook his head. "Of course, you would still win, but at least it would be a challenge."

Spike turned back to Albus and said, wryly, "I would think that tree would be a major safety hazard and a lawsuit just _waiting_ to happen. We could even represent the injured party."

Tonks was staring, open mouthed, at the Seer since he described the tree. Finally she managed to say, incredulously, "That's-that's the Whomping Willow!" She went to drop into her chair and fell on the ground. She swore rather colorfully and went about righting herself and the chair.

"Whomping? _Definitely_ your type of tree Con." He smiled at the boy, winking, and the boy smiled back. 

"Wait, Wait, WAIT!" The woman named Fred cut in, glaring at the Seer, stood indignantly and pointed at him. "Are you saying that you are a wizard-type person-like them?" She waved her other hand at the visitors. "And you didn't tell us!"

"When I was alive, yes, I was unfortunately a wizard," Spike grumbled irritably, his smile fading.

The young lady, her ire fading at the miserable tone to the Seer's voice, sat and asked quietly, "How come you didn't tell us?"

Spike shrugged his shoulders casually, "Because it wasn't really important until now, was it?" Then the Seer looked at Albus again, his eyes no longer yellow, but blue. "And since _when_ have there been Acromantulas in the Forbidden Forest?"  
  


Tonks sputtered, "Acromantulas-that's ridic-!" Then she hit her head on the table, "Oouuwwww!"

Albus was carefully eyeing the Seer once again and said slowly, "Since about 50 years ago." Tonks eyes went wide as she whipped around to stare at the Headmaster, slowing sinking into the chair, a hand pressed to her head. Albus chuckled and patted on of her hands and explained, "One of Hagrid's pets, from when he was in school. I hear he found a mate for Aragog from Harry and Ron-there seem to be quite a few of them now."

"Now _that_ is an understatement old man. _'Quite a few'_-ha! That's like saying Drusilla's mind is only slightly off center and Drusilla is quite insane-and she is who we have to get back to. Satisfied that I recognize the school and the vision is of Hogwarts so that we can go?"

Tonks nodded, numbly. Albus pursed his lips, calculating, and asked another question, "What about the Quidditch field?"

"It's still there, but the baskets aren't anymore," the Seer said, slightly perplexed. "There are hoops of some sort instead."

"Baskets?" asked Tonks at the same time Connor asked, "Quidditch?"

"A wizarding sport," Albus said absentmindedly. While still studying the Seer as he turned to the boy, the Headmaster said to Tonks, "Before 1883, Quidditch used baskets on poles for the goals instead of hoops. Which means that the Seer is a very interesting person."

Spike was explaining to Connor about the Bludgers. Connor's eyes were wide with glee, "Balls that are magicked to attack people while they play their sport." The Seer stopped when Albus called him a very interesting person.

Spike shook his head negatively and brought his head up, looking Albus in the eye. Albus tried to see if he could find what he wanted, but hit a wall as the Seer's eyes widened. Angrily he slammed a fist onto the table, rattling it even at Albus's end and growled, "Do _Not_ do that again Old Man!"

Connor was instantly in a fighting stance, a vicious knife as long as his forearm and as wide as his wrist clutched in his right hand, set to attack. Lorne jumped and spilled his drink down the front of his bright suit and swore. Angelus growled, eyes changing and the Watcher pulled out a firearm. Gunn remained motionless, but his eyes were now locked onto their two guests, watching for any aggressive movements.

"What happened Spike-what did he do?" Fred asked anxiously, slowly standing.

"He was trying to get into my mind, the nosey bugger!" Spike roared. 

At the indication of a non-physical assault on one of their own, the group seemed to stand down-physically at least, all except the Destroyer, who simply crossed his arms across his chest, holding his knife. The boy continued to glaring at the visitors, a sneer of contempt on his face; _it was eerily reminiscent of Severus when forced to deal with any of the Gryffindor Trio._

The Seer's eyes morphed the feral yellow again and were locked on Albus, "I may not be a full vampire, but I am half, making it impossible for you, a wizard but still a mere _human_, to break into my mind. Even if I _was_ still fully human, I was taught by the best to keep nosey people _out_. Don't you have manners? You don't see me trying to break into your mind and, like Angelus says, I'm the uncouth one!"

"That's another reason Drusilla is so dangerous; she can easily put you in her thrall," Angel tried to put in helpfully, attempting to diffuse or even redirect some of Spike's anger. It didn't help.

"If you want an answer to a question, just _Ask!_"

Angel muttered, "You just _had_ to make him angry," and sat down tiredly.

_"Well?" _The Seer growled, baring razor sharp teeth.__

_Might as well try; it can't make him any angrier, after all he said to ask._ "I wanted to know when you went to Hogwarts and what your name is."

"Name's William, that you already know," he growled out, "and I was class of 1872. _Happy?_"

_William, '72._ Albus's eyes widened and again he stared at the Seer. The Seer had calmed down enough that his eyes were shifted back to blue, _the same exact blue of his own eyes_. The Headmaster drew in a sharp breath; he now understood the dreamer's reaction to Elizabeth, _seen a ghost indeed._ "Oh dear Merlin-Will? Will Potter?" 

"Ya, that's me. Hoorah for me." A pause, then he said suspiciously, "Wait-how in the hellmouth do you know that?" He looked at Albus for a moment and then bent down, riffling through his pockets, asking absently, "What did you say your name was?"

Tonks spoke up, indignant that this Seer hadn't even had the common courtesy to listen when they had introduced themselves, especially with all commotion he caused by insisting that he speak to the Headmaster, "This is Headmaster Dumbledore, Order of Merlin First Class-didn't you _bother_ to listen earlier?" The boy shook his head at her, indicating that the Seer hadn't listened.

Spike simply ignored her questions having finally found what he was looking for and pulled out a set of eye-glasses, the ones that he had on earlier. He put them on and looked at Albus again, squinting slightly, then his eyes widened in recognition. "Albus? Or is it Aberforth?"

"Albus, Albus Dumbledore, he told us that earlier Uncle," Connor reminded him.

"Be quiet Con. Huh. Small world. So Albus, trust us now?"

Albus nodded, "Yes." He chuckled and shook his head slightly, sighing, "It certainly explains Mr. Potter's bizarre vision this morning. I wonder-well, there will be time later. What exactly happened in the vision Will?"

Spike scowled at the name, but let it go. 

"First I saw Hogwarts, like I was flying over it. Then I was in the Forbidden Forest. I saw a flash of Drusilla and she disappeared again. Then there was a man collecting plants. What the hell he is doing _alone_ in a forest infested with Acromantulas, I don't know. Next thing, Dru had him pulled to her chest and was draining him. There was another flash of vampire eyes, you know, the color my eyes turn when I'm angry. That was it." 

Spike looked back into Albus's eyes and saw panic. "What is it Albus?"

"The man, describe him," the Headmaster said tersely.

"Tall, black shoulder length hair, black robes, pale skin and a crooked nose with a nasty sneer."

Albus had shot up from his seat by the end of the description. Tonks also swiftly stood.

"You recognize him?"

"The Potions Master at the school," Albus answered shortly.

"Why are you so panicked Albus?"

"He was in the forest when we left the school."

"Ah, Bloody-Hell! I take it you _would_ like our help now?" Albus nodded. "Good. All five of us should be able to use the portkey. Con, help me stand." Connor nodded and put a hand around his back, helping him stand.

"Who is coming?" Albus asked.

Angel responded, stooping down to pick up the black duffle bag, "Myself, Connor and Spike. Wes, please continue tracking the attacks. We will be in contact soon."

"Yes Boss," the Watcher answered wryly. Angel rolled his eyes and smiled back at him.

The boy had helped the Seer stand and had stooped back down to pick up the two duffle bags at their feet. The Seer now had a brace on his right arm and was making his way over to the Headmaster. His left leg seemed to be in another sort of brace and the leg remained straight as he walked. When he reached them, he reached in his pocket with his left hand and pulled out a wand, handing it to Tonks.

"You wand, Auror. Do try to hold onto it better next time." Then he turned to Albus and held out his left hand. Albus took it with both of his. Albus looked at the brace and the leg and back into the Seer's eyes. Spike shook his head and spoke, "Good to see you again, old Albus. You are the only thing in this whole mess that I am happy to see. But still, stay _out_ of my mind. By the way, what is the bloke's name that we are off to save?"

Albus hesitated answering, eyeing Spike, and Tonks answered instead, "Severus Snape." 

The Seer's left hand tightened its grip and he scowled.

"Not now Will."

He closed his eyes, breathing deep, and then opened his eyes and smiled slightly. On the inside, Albus shivered a little. _That smile was a smaller version of the one the boy, the Destroyer, had given him earlier._ "Not now then. And please don't call me that. Will died over 120 years ago. He is gone, forever. Name's Spike now."

"I have been wondering about that name _all day_-what does Spike mean?" Tonks asked as they all grouped together to use the portkey.

Connor frowned, "Believe me; you are better off not knowing."

"Why?"

Angel answered grimly, "We get our monikers from the way we kill."

That shut Tonks up immediately. Albus gazed at Spike worriedly; the Seer was talking softly to Connor. _How had the soft-spoken, gentle Will Potter became this hot-tempered, moody Seer named Spike? And where had his cultured accent that had been drilled into him since birth gone?_

_And why exactly had Harry been pulled into the Seer's dream?_

He was pulled from his thoughts by the Vampire telling him the word to activate the portkey to bring it back to its point of origin. He took out his wand and tapped the parchment.

**_"The Key."_**

~@~@~@~


	4. Ch 3: Missing After Dark

**Worlds Wrought & Ruined**

**_Chapter 3: _****_Missing After Dark_**

**Spoilers:** _Buffy_ Season 7; _Angel_ Season 4; _Harry Potter_, Books 1 thru 5

**Disclaimer: **Buffy the Vampire Slayer and all associated characters, settings, etc., belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, UPN, etc. Harry Potter and all associated characters, setting, props, etc., belong to J.K. Rowling, Scholastic Inc., etc. No copyright infringement is intended.

Thanks to my brilliant Beta **Lady Lestrange**. Lady L _Rocks!_

More thanks to my fellows at **The_Seers_Truth** group for reading my story and giving it a chance, even though it isn't strictly Harry Potter.

And **miz****, Silverfox1**, **Trillium**, **Radia**, **Selene12**, **samson**, **Incepte**, & **Lady Lestrange** – thanks for all reviewing – it is definitely _sisshauss_. Responses to reviews are at the end.

**+++**

**Chapter 3**

**_Missing After Dark_**

**+++**

**Time:**           ~17:30 GMT 

**Location:**     Headmaster's Office, _Hogwarts__School__ of Witchcraft and Wizardry _

                     Scotland UK

~@~@~@~

The group arrived, or more appropriately crash-landed, in the Headmaster's Office. Angel managed to grab onto a nearby chair and steadied himself before he toppled over. His two companions were not as lucky, both sprawled on the floor. Angel set down his duffle bag, crouching, and proceeded to pull out an array of lethal weapons. "That was horrible," he grumbled as he strapped his broadsword to his back.

With a quick shake of his head, Connor reoriented himself and sat up. Following his father's example, he also began riffling through his two duffle bags. Spike simply remained where he was, lying on the floor, and groaned, "I _Hate _portkeys." 

After a few moments of staring blankly at the ceiling, Spike, too, sat up. Rubbing his face, then his temples, he said tiredly, "Hand me my short swords Con." Then he smiled as an idea seemed to inspire him and shot a smirk at the younger boy who was still pulling weapons from both duffle bags. "And kid, try not to lose your sword this time." This elicited an indignant shout from Connor and chuckles from his two elders.

The two wizards, accustomed to the mode of travel, immediately set about their tasks the moment they arrived. Albus fire-called the Deputy Headmistress and asked her to join them. Tonks, waiting to use the fireplace, silently watched with growing apprehension as their three visitors armed themselves with a strange variety of sharp metal implements.

"Nymphadora, I am finished."

The Auror, so intent on watching the strangers, did not even correct the Headmaster. She moved to use the now available fireplace and, after shooting another suspicious glance at the newcomers, fire-called the Auror Division, placing her head in the fire, and gave a quick report to Shacklebolt.

"We brought them back with us. I wish we hadn't, but…" she trailed off worriedly and Kingsley asked her what was wrong. She answered nervously. 

"It's, well, it is Severus." 

"What about Snape?" Shacklebolt said scornfully.

"The foreseen death—it's him."

A sharp indrawn breath was the only indication of Kingsley's surprise, which he covered by continuing formally and slightly louder, "The Minister wants you to report to him immediately upon your return. But, as you know, an Auror cannot ignore an imminent threat …" he stopped, giving her a significant look.

She nodded once, "Of course Sir, I will report immediately to the Minister," and she pulled her head from the fire. Two of their new companions were staring at her strangely. Self consciously, she straightened her robes, smoothing them, and asked defensively, "What?" The one not staring at her started chuckling, which only made her more irritated and she said louder, "What?"

He just laughed louder and explained, "We aren't accustomed to seeing people stick their 'eads into fires, carry on a conversation and draw their 'ead out without a singed 'air." He cocked his head to the side as he took a staff from the kid and said speculatively, "Tonks iddin't a wizarding name, is it?"

She looked at him sharply, her right hand closing over her wand in her pocket, and said slowly, "No. Why?"

He looked at her for a moment, and then turned his gaze to the staff he had collapsed and was snapping into place on his brace, saying conversationally, "So you know what cell phones are, right?"

She fidgeted and answered vaguely, "I have some idea." He looked up with a raised eyebrow and, at his questioning look, she elaborated, "My father is Muggleborn, yes, but my mother is not, so we don't live with the Muggles."

He had put aside his brace, taking up a scabbard and short sword. "Ah well. Anyway, we use phones to talk to each other, not by sticking our 'eads in fires."

Despite her distrustfulness of their new companions, her curiosity got the better of her and she even took a small step toward them. "That works? You can communicate that way effectively? But how do you find a phone?"

"Just like you find a fireplace," he said simply, shrugging his shoulders. 

Tonks started to ask another question, but stopped at the sound of the office door opening. She turned from the visitors to the new arrival. "Good evening Professor McGonagall," she greeted politely.

Two of the visitors stood when the Professor entered the office: Angel and Connor. Both were fully armed and Connor began to absently twirl his axe, his ever-present impatient energy needing an outlet.

Albus rose from behind his desk, where he had been casting quick successions of various locating spells on the Potions Master, all for not. "Minerva, thank you for coming so quickly."

She nodded primly in answer and quickly took in the occupants of the office. Then she turned back to Dumbledore, "Headmaster—we did not expect you to be back so soon—"

Albus quickly cut her off, saying sharply, "Minerva—it is Severus. Where is he now?"

She blinked twice, not used to that sharp tone from Albus, but she still answered automatically.

"Severus—he's—he's in the forest, supposedly collecting potion ingredients, but you know that's just his excuse—he goes out there to think and relax." She stopped for a moment, thinking over what Dumbledore just said. "_What_ is Severus?"

Dumbledore walked toward McGonagall, asking hesitantly, "He is not back yet?" 

She shook her head, confused, "No—he was upset—he'll be out there past curfew, minimum—why?" 

"Damn," Angel swore.

Tonks knew what this meant; the vision probably took place tonight. She took several steps toward the Headmaster and said vehemently, "We have to search the forest _now_."

Spike nodded at the Auror. "Exactly," he said as he slowly stood, two short swords secured on his person, using his brace. "Gather as many people as possible that are comfortable going into the forest, it is very large and we have to cover it as quickly as possible."

"Albus, what—? Who—?" Minerva said, still very disoriented, looking from Angel to Tonks to Spike.

"The vision I went to hear—" Albus started.

Minerva nodded and Dumbledore hesitated, trying to determine how to best tell her. Spike had no such qualms.

"I saw Drusilla draining your Potions Master dry somewhere in the Forbidden Forest."

Minerva was still horribly confused, "Draining—Drusilla?"

Spike was slowly walking toward them and said simply, "A particularly nasty Master Vampire."

"Oh Dear," she exclaimed, her hand going to her throat. Then she choked, "Severus—"

Albus silently cursed the Seer. Her reaction was the one he least expected and most apprehensive of. He shot a reprimanding look at Spike, who just shrugged and motioned to the hourglass on his desk. It reminded him that time was of the essence. Albus nodded at the Seer and turned his attention immediately back to McGonagall.

"Minerva," Dumbledore said, grabbing her firmly by the shoulders, and said calmly, "Where are the Staff?"

The abrupt change of subject threw her off momentarily, but she quickly collected herself and stated, "They, along with the students, are at dinner. It is—perhaps," she paused for a moment, thinking and then continued, "halfway finished. I believe they are all in attendance." Then her face fell and Albus finished her thought.

"Except Severus." He nodded and then said, "To remedy that, I need you to collect Rubeus and Remus as swiftly as you can without alarming the students."

She nodded, "Yes Headmaster."

"Meet us at Hagrid's hut. From there we will coordinate the search for Severus."

She nodded again and seemed to gain control of herself, pulling her shoulders back and lifted her head up. "We will meet you there," she said as she nodded once at the guests and turned briskly, walking out the door.

Spike came up next to Albus and spoke firmly, "Albus, under no circumstance should anyone engage Drusilla without one of us. She can do a great deal of damage in a short space of time."

Albus nodded, "Of course Wi—Spike. Can we walk and coordinate?"

Angel answered for Spike, walking past both Connor and Spike toward the door. "Yes. We have no time to waste," he said as he continued walking out the door. Tonks followed immediately on his heals, not trusting the vampire a bit, unwilling to let him out of her sight even if he did scare her hair white. Both Albus and Connor moved to follow, but Spike remained where he was standing. Connor noticed and turned toward him.

"Uncle? Are you alright?"

Spike seemed to be trying to figure something out. "I seem to remember something strange about the staircase to this office…"

"Jesus, Mary and Joseph!!" Angel yelled in his Irish lilt, echoing up from the Office door.

Albus half-turned back to them and said with a small amount of mirth, "It could be that the stairs have a tendency to move." Then he turned to the stairwell and said louder, slightly concerned, "Mr. Angel, are you alright?" The answer was a grumbled yes, still standing and that the stairs moving just surprised him and he momentarily lost his balance.

"I am also fine, Headmaster," Tonks commented indignantly.

"Of course you are dear, I never doubted it." A grumbled _he almost fell on me_ only made the Headmaster chuckle more.

Spike snapped his fingers and his face lit, muttering to himself, "That's it! Just like escalators."

Albus continued, still smiling, "Well, yes, I believe it is time to leave. If you would follow me." The Headmaster swept out of the office. 

Connor looked at Spike worriedly after the Headmaster left. As they walked out of the office together, Connor muttered under his breathe to Spike about the Headmaster, "Is he a little—disturbed? After all, he seemed like he _liked _this potions master and yet he's smiling at every turn. Does he understand the danger?"

Connor motioned for Spike to go ahead of him onto the stairs. Spike smirked at the kid's questions and limped out, chuckling as he went. "He knows the danger kid—humor is his way of dealing with the stress, even if it does lead to him smile and laugh at the most inappropriate times." Spike paused as the stairs began to move downward, aiding him in navigating the spiral staircase. He looked over his shoulder, grinning at the Destroyer who was a step behind him, ready to catch him if he fell. "Then again, he is almost 150 years old—"

Spike was interrupted by a voice at the bottom of the staircase, saying powerfully, "And proud of _every year_."

Spike chuckled. "Same old Albus," he muttered softly. Silently, he added, _I wish I could say the same for myself._

+++ 

**Time:**           ~17:30 GMT 

**Location:**     Great Hall, _Hogwarts__School__ of Witchcraft and Wizardry _

                     Scotland UK

~@~@~@~

Harry had been trying to think of what exactly to tell Ron and Hermione. Ron knew, of course, although he had not been in Potions, he was not taking it this year, because—as he had so eloquently put it: 'he had spent five miserable years putting up with the greasy git and it was five years too long and not all the gold in Gringotts could make him spend one more second with that Slimy Slytherin Snake.'

What did he tell them—_that he had had a bizarre vision with his great-great-great aunt, who he didn't know, in it?_ That, in the vision, his aunt had not only appeared as the witch she had been when she died at age 20, but also as a younger American Muggle, around their age. And that this American had yelled at a man, the apparent dreamer, who was named _Spike?_

The whole wizarding world had thought that he was crazy last year; he really didn't want to affirm that fact to be true to his two best friends. But _how _to tell them without making himself sound certifiable?

He was also extremely frustrated with the Headmaster—he had gently, but firmly, been told to leave the headmaster's office after they had identified this Elizabeth Potter from his vision. He had wanted to talk about this Elizabeth Potter but the Headmaster had refused to answer him and so had, amazingly, Phineas Nigellus. The Headmaster had promised to tell Harry of any developments, but Harry doubted it. To him, it was a hollow promise from the Headmaster to get him to leave the office with the minimum amount of yelling.  

As if responding to his thoughts, a yelling voice pierced his perception. 

"Harry! HARRY!"

"Huh?" Harry turned and looked toward the source of the yelling voice: Hermione. She was staring at him with a concerned look on her face. _How long had he been thinking?_ "What is it Hermione?"

"We've been trying to get your attention for five minutes mate. Where were you?" Ron asked in his boisterous voice from across the table.

Harry absentmindedly rubbed his forehead and sighed. "I was thinking about earlier—in Potions."

Ron nodded, seemingly relieved, and Hermione echoed his movement. Ron lowered his voice to a more normal level and asked, "When are you going to tell us?"

"After dinner," Harry said dully.

"We can use the Room of Requirement—alright Harry?" Hermione added.

Harry nodded and looked around the Great Hall. He noticed immediately that Dumbledore was not at the head table—_that was strange_—the Headmaster _never_ missed a meal. "Hermione—look." When he didn't get a response, or any movement, from her, he kicked her.

"Ouch—Harry!" she yelled. He winced—maybe a little_ too_ hard.

"Look," he hissed as he turned to her and then looked pointedly back at the head table. Professor McGonagall also seemed to be missing. He scanned down the table, looking for other absences. Harry heard Hermione's sharp intake of breath when she noticed.

"Ron," she hissed and when he continued to eat, not hearing her, she used Harry's method.

"Ouw—Mione!" Ron said with his mouth full. Once he had swallowed, he started to ask her, "Wha—?" but she quickly interrupted him.

"Look at the head table."

"Why?"

"Because—" Hermione's voice dropped, "there are three _teachers_ missing—one being the Headmaster."

_Three?_ Harry looked away from his friends and scanned the table again. There—at the end where almost no one would notice—was Snape, or rather, Snape's empty seat.

"Harry, do you think it has something to do with your vision?"

Harry shrugged, but, internally, it was a definite _yes_. He did not believe in coincidence whenever he had a vision—_especially_ when the only two people to hear his vision disappeared.

Ron gaped. "Dumbledore never misses a meal—he is almost as religious about meals as I am—and McGonagall."

"And Snape—do you think he could have been…" Hermione trailed off and looked at Harry, eyes flickering to his forehead. 

Harry shook his head negatively, "No—I haven't felt anything—" then he stopped abruptly as he saw Professor McGonagall come in through the teachers' side door. "Hermione."

"I see her." She furrowed her brow. "Does she seem—I don't know—" she stopped, trying to find the word.

"Worried?" Ron supplied.

"Distressed," Hermione said, then, nodding at Ron, added, "And worried."

McGonagall had swiftly walked over to Hagrid and whispered something in his ear. Then she seemed to scurry over to their DADA teacher. She bent over and whispered in his ear. Professor Lupin's eyes widened alarmingly and he turned to her, asking something in return.

"What do you think is wrong?"

"I have no idea," Harry responded absently, watching Hagrid stand and leave through the door McGonagall had just come in through. He looked back at McGonagall and Lupin, to find her shaking her head while standing, straightening her robes. Lupin immediately stood and followed an extremely stiff Deputy Headmistress out of the Great Hall.

"Oh my," Hermione gasped, turning to her two companions. Their heads all drew together in the standard 'Plotting Gryffindor Trio' formation. This, more so than the absence of now _five_ teachers, drew attention from their fellow students, especially the Gryffindors. Before they could start plotting, a fourth head joined them, scowling, her red hair falling into their vision.

"Don't you three even start," she reprimanded. "I know you are up to something—_or_ about to start."

Ron opened his mouth to deny it but Ginny put her hand over his mouth and glared at him. "Do _not_ even begin to lie to me Ronald Weasley," she scolded in a scarily similar voice to Molly Weasley. "I know the signs—hell, half of Gryffindor know the signs." She removed her hand and he snapped his mouth shut. "I know you are conspiring, especially after five teachers are absent from dinner."

Ron gaped at her, Harry just studying her and Hermione simply smiled, reaching across the table to close Ron's mouth. Then she turned to Ginny and, in a stage whisper, said, "I swear, sometimes it seems like the Weasley women are the only ones with sense—and more than half a brain."

Ginny smirked at Ron, who was scowling at Hermione, and nodded her head loftily, "Of course, that's because it's true." Then Ginny's face turned serious and made sure to make eye contact with the other three so that they knew she wasn't joking anymore. "And my whole brain is telling me that you should not even _think_ about following Professor Lupin."

"Why not?" Ron asked earnestly.

Ginny scowled deeply and said angrily, "Maybe because it is not any of your business! You ever think of _that?_"

"Well—no, but we—"

"Is anyone in danger?" Ginny persisted.

"No, not that we know of, but—"

"But _nothing_ Harry. Are you so eager to repeat past mistakes? It is only the third week of school and already you are looking for trouble."

Harry opened his mouth to argue that it might have something to do with his vision, but stopped and shut his mouth. He hadn't told Ginny he had even _had _a vision and he hadn't told Hermione and Ron _what_ the vision was—hell, he didn't even know. And Ginny was right—he was about to run off into who knows what. His luck, he would run into vampires. 

Harry pulled his head back from the huddle and the others did the same. He gave Ginny a nasty look and grumbled, "I hate it when you make sense, especially when you are _not_ agreeing with me."

"Harry—" Ron started, but Harry waved him off.

"No Ron, as much as you hate to admit it, your sister is right on this. I was about to run off—_again_—without getting the whole story."

"It's a burden being right all the time, I know, but—" Ginny said haughtily, joking, stopping when Ron slugged her. "Ouw. Ronald, hitting a girl—what would Mum say?"

"She'd say 'Ginny, stop provoking your brother,' and then knock me upside the head for hitting you."

Ginny thought for a moment and then smiled and nodded, "Probably. Then she would add how proud she was that you listened to your sister's good sense instead of running off on another fool adventure. _Right?_"

"Yes, probably," Ron mumbled, blushing slightly at having his sister dress him down. Then he grinned slightly maliciously and added, "Mini-Mum."

Harry burst out laughing at the look on Ginny's face at being called 'Mini-Mum.' It was a strange cross between outrage and pride. Hermione looked like she was trying to hold back a smile as she suggested that they go up to the Room of Requirement. "Harry, have you gotten the extended shield spell down yet?"

Harry shook his negatively, still laughing at Ron and Ginny's antics. In response to his comment, Ginny wetted a napkin with her spit and attempted to wipe Ron's face clean. Ron literally jumped out of his seat, readily agreeing with Hermione's suggestion, and even started off to the seventh floor, saying he would meet Harry and Hermione there.

Hermione turned from Harry to Ginny, bewildered, "What happened?"

Ginny's smile resembled that of a Cheshire cat and she simply said, "I was just being a Mini-Mum to him." She shrugged, "Dunno why he ran out like that."

That sent Harry into another round of laughter and Ginny stuck her tongue out at him, still smiling. "That's what he gets for comparing me to Mum." Hermione shook her head and stood, walking out of the hall. Harry also made to stand, but Ginny caught his hand. She locked her eyes on him and said, very seriously, "I may be acting like Mum, but it is only because I fancy having my brother and his friends stay in one piece. I am deadly serious about this Harry; I have this horrible feeling that something terrible will happen to you if you go out there tonight. Please, promise me you will not go out there tonight."

"Ginny—" Harry looked away and tried to shrug her off, not wanting to promise to not do something that he still might want to do. Ginny simply tightened her grip on his hand until he was in pain. He looked back at her, shocked, "Ginny!" 

Ginny stared at him, her eyes hard and angry at being ignored. Her brown eyes seemed to bore into his and, for a moment, he swore he felt her brush his mind. She seemed to get angrier and Harry shrank back—maybe she _had _touched his mind. "Do **_not_** ignore me Harry James Potter," she growled at him. Her resemblance to Mrs. Weasley was uncanny now, bringing to mind the face of a mother who worried sick for the safety of her loved ones and was angrily telling off the person who had, through ill-thought-out childish actions, just put their lives in danger. _Ginny really believed that he would be putting his life in danger by going after the teachers._ Mrs. Weasley always seemed to have a sixth sense for knowing when her sons were in danger, or up to something, and it seemed that the talent had been passed to her daughter.

"I promise," he said solemnly and meant it. Ginny nodded. "We will be in the Room until curfew—you can join us if you like."

"I might come up later—I need to work on refining my hexes for the first DA meeting of the year. It's still on for Wednesday right?"

"Yes," Harry said and then asked a little hesitantly, "Do you think you can let go of my hand now?"

Ginny blushed as red as her hair and immediately let go. 

Harry laughed nervously and said, "Quite a grip you've got there Gin."

"Sorry," she mumbled. Then louder she said firmly, "But I couldn't let you go out there. You had that gleam in your eye that says _'Harry is about to ignore everyone else and do exactly as he planned in the first place.'_ Don't scowl at me—it's true! Ask Ron and Hermione, they'll tell you." She snorted, "You had better go before they send out a search party." 

He stood as she continued, a little softer than before, "And Harry, if you want to talk about what has been bothering you all day, I'm here. I'll listen quietly and then tell you what a prat you are, worrying over nothing."

He laughed slightly and said, "I'll consider it," as he walked toward the Hall doors. 

He glanced over his shoulder to look again at the empty-looking head table and heard Ginny mutter darkly, "A very bad feeling," before turning back so that he didn't walk into a wall. Good thing he turned when he did, he was just about to try walking through the stone wall. _Today just kept getting better and better._ He shook his head, _maybe tomorrow will be better—_it was, after all, going to be Saturday. He rubbed his wrist again, grimacing. _When had Ginny gotten so strong?_

~@~@~@~

"A very bad feeling," Ginny mumbled. She turned and watched Harry almost walk right into the wall. She laughed and shook her head and turned back, scanning the Great Hall. Most everyone had not missed the two teachers leaving, but dismissed it as dinner was starting to let out. Indeed, the Great Hall had emptied considerably. She stood herself and left, walking leisurely. She let her mind wander, forgetting about her brother and his nosey friends, trying to simply relax.

A steady clicking behind her indicated someone following, snapping her attention back into focus. After listening for a moment, she realized it wasn't steady; it was a click-clip and a pause, then another click-clip and pause. It amazed her exactly what she could hear if she concentrated enough. A few more seconds told her who it was and she groaned. 

_Didn't the boy have anything better to do than bother her? She should have shattered every bone in his foot, not just one; then he couldn't stalk her._ She stopped and stomped her foot in frustration. _First Harry, Ron and Hermione want to go chase a werewolf and giant around the Hogwarts grounds in the dark and now the ferret! _

**+++**

Notes to Reviewers:

**miz****: **No Dawn yet…

**Silverfox1:** lol – Thanks! Greenie is one of my personal favorites!

**Trillium: **Snape - in danger? Whatever gave you that idea… *grin*

**Radia****: **The brace will be explained, not just yet though. The Spike-Dawn interaction will be fun when we get to it, but they may have more astral conversations. And we will see about Dawn and Connor…And of course the relationships between Spike, Harry and Severus are going to be fun.

**Selene12: **Yes I will touch on Buffy and Dawn, but not just yet. And Buffy is a flash to her second, Glory death. She is still of the living.

**Samson: **Thank you for the wonderful, pretty words. Hope you enjoyed this chapter. 

**Incepte****: **Dawn…hmmm, we will see.

**Lady L:** You ask too many questions :P Should we be worried about Snape? Alone, in the Forbidden Forest, after dark, with an insane, evil Vampire – should we be worried? Maybe. Then again…

**++**


	5. Ch 4: Finding a Message in the Bottle

**Worlds Wrought & Ruined**

**_Chapter 4: _****_Finding a Message in the Bottle_**

**Spoilers:** _Buffy_ Season 7; _Angel_ Season 4; _Harry Potter_, Books 1 thru 5

**Disclaimer: **Buffy the Vampire Slayer and all associated characters, settings, etc., belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, UPN, etc. Harry Potter and all associated characters, setting, props, etc., belong to J.K. Rowling, Scholastic Inc., etc. No copyright infringement is intended.

**Note:** Buffy Canon information to help understand the second half of this chapter is at the end of the fic. For the non-Buffy fan, I suggest reading the note before reading the chapter as it will help you understand what the heck the Buffy people are talking about.

Thanks to my brilliant Beta **Lady Lestrange**. Lady L _Rocks!_

More thanks to my fellows at **The_Seers_Truth** group for reading – _Has Tonks gone to the comic book store yet?_

And **Ghost Whisper, Trillium, Silverfox1**, **Caliope**, & **Lady Lestrange** – thanks for all reviewing – it is definitely _sisshauss_. Responses to reviews are at the end.

**+++**

**Chapter 4**

**_Finding a Message in the Bottle_**

+++

**Time:**           ~18:00 GMT 

**Location:**     Room of Requirement, _Hogwarts__School__ of Witchcraft and Wizardry _

                     Scotland UK

~@~@~@~

The door to the Room of Requirement was standing open as Harry approached. As he looked inside he had to smile, the Room was configured into the comfortable setting of the living room at the Burrow, complete with roaring fire and various Muggle knick-knacks. His best friends did know him well. They knew he was apprehensive about telling them about the vision and they also knew that a familiar setting would serve to relax him. Or was it the Room that had picked up on the distress of his friends and had sought to create an environment to sooth them? In either event the comfortable room at the Burrow was a welcome sight. 

Harry sighed. Even with the reassuring room, he still didn't know how to tell Hermione and Ron about his vision. Harry was also extremely distracted by what had happened at dinner. Five teachers missing, McGonagall and Lupin looking worried. And then Ginny. He shook his head and tentatively moved his left hand, grimacing as he did so._ Damn!_ Ginny had nearly crushed his hand and she hadn't seemed to know that she was doing so. Luckily it wasn't his other hand; he didn't know if he would be able to open a door with his hand, let alone hold a quill. _Or a wand._

He bent his wrist and winced as it cracked. He looked to Ron as he walked in the door. "Has your sister been working out?"

Ron just looked him, confused and shook his head, "No, no more than normal. Why?"

"Her grip – she crushed my hand to stop me from leaving the table." He moved his fingers and they also cracked. Ron raised his eyebrows but Harry was looking concernedly at his left hand. "I think she might have broken something."

Ron coughed and when Harry looked up, Ron asked, "Why did she stop you from leaving the table?"

Harry blushed slightly and looked at Hermione, mumbling, "She made me promise not to go out tonight. She didn't believe I would listen to her, some nonsense about a gleam in my eye. Total, utter nonsense," he insisted, shaking his hair out of his eyes and turning back to shut the door.

Hermione simply exchanged a smile with Ron and said smugly, "_Did_ you promise?"

"Yes, she wouldn't let go until I did," he said grumpily. Then, more serious, "I could tell that she is genuinely worried, said she has this horrible feeling." Harry had turned back and was walking toward them when he scowled at their smiles. "Do I really get a gleam in my eye?" he asked as he threw himself into an arm chair next to the sofa his best friends were sitting on.

Hermione cleared her throat, trying to cover her laughter. Ron didn't bother, chuckling as he answered, "Sometimes, when you are absolutely set on doing something, you have this mad glint to your eyes and there is no reasoning with you. Like last year—" Ron stopped suddenly, snapping his mouth shut and cringing when Hermione hit him. He looked sheepishly at Harry. "Err—sorry mate. I forgot. Sometimes I forget to think before I speak."

"Sometimes?" Hermione asked skeptically and Ron scowled at her. Harry chuckled lightly, making Ron turn to him with an apologetic look on his face.

Harry waved at him, dismissing the faux pas. "It's okay Ron—it _does_ illustrate your point, albeit painfully." He laughed hollowly, cradling his head in his hands and then pulling away sharply as pain shot through his left wrist. He looked at it ironically and then up at Ron and Hermione, holding up his hand that was just starting to bruise. "It seems pain is the only way I can manage to really learn."

Hermione cried out in alarm as she saw his hand and Ron grimaced. "Well, maybe Gin _has_ been working out. She has been practicing Quidditch with me all summer, helping me and hitting me with the Quaffle every chance she got. I swear she wasn't aiming for the hoop, but for _me_. She has one wicked throwing arm—after every practice, I had to soak in the bathtub for an hour or I wouldn't be able to move the next day. Gripping the Quaffle all summer probably gave her a strong grip." He shrugged and watched as Hermione healed Harry's hand as best she could. 

After she was finished, Harry grinned and said cheekily, "Well, Ginny has _my_ vote for Chaser." 

Hermione groaned as Ron and Harry began to talk about the prospects for the team this year. They were not good, as they had to replace nearly the entire team. After enduring as much as she could, she groaned loudly, pulling a pillow over her head and falling back onto the sofa.

"Hermione?" Harry asked worriedly.

"What?" she answered, it muffled by the pillow.

"Are you alright?" Ron asked. 

She sat up bolt straight and chucked the pillow at Ron. "_No!_ We come here to talk about what happened to Harry in Potions and all you two can talk about is Quidditch."

Ron looked slightly stunned. "Oh, right—Potions." He tossed the pillow Hermione had thrown, which he had easily caught, to Harry and asked, "What _did_ happen Harry? I heard you fell asleep. Not rightly smart with the way Snape feels about you."

It was Harry's turn to groan. "I did not _fall asleep_ Ron, I had a vision and it is certifiable." As Ron's eyes widened in alarm, Harry put in, "And it had nothing to do with Voldemort." Ron flinched at the Dark Lord's name.

"But how do you know that Harry?" Hermione asked as she leaned forward, eager as ever to learn something new.

"Because I was seeing someone else's dream and I could see the dreamer; it wasn't him." He looked at them seriously, "Now, promise you won't laugh." He paused, waiting for them to respond. Both nodded somewhat hesitantly. "The bloke, the dreamer, his name is Spike," Harry paused and, as expected, Ron snickered. Harry understood; the name was truly ridiculous. Harry continued, giving the still snickering Ron a nasty look, "And, even stranger, one of the people in his dream has been dead for over 120 years."

"So you recognized this person?" asked Hermione, starting a systematic interrogation about this woman.

"No, Dumbledore did. She was the only witch in the dream."

"Everyone else was a Muggle?"

"Yes—or, at least, they were all dressed as Muggles."

"So who is the witch?"

"Elizabeth Potter, my something-great aunt."

"Why would a Muggle be dreaming about a witch that has been dead for over a century?"

"Wait Hermione, it gets better. The dreamer recognized her and seemed very surprised to see her."

"How do you know he recognized her?"

"He called her Elizabeth," Harry said simply. "Then she told him it was time for him to go back to the wizarding world, so I don't really think he is a Muggle."

"Oh." Hermione thought for a moment and then asked, "Was this the beginning of the vision, or should we call it a dream?"

"A dream—I saw it in a vision, but it was definitely a dream I was seeing. And no, this was near the end."

"Start from the beginning," Ron said.

"Alright—it started on the tube, except it wasn't the one in London. I think it was in the States because the woman on the tube with the dreamer spoke with an American accent—"

"The dreamer didn't?" Hermione asked.

Harry shook his head, "No, he had a North London accent. Now don't interrupt, it is hard to remember as it is." He closed his eyes, envisioning the dream and frowned instantly. "The woman, the way she was dressed and her hair, I think it was the past but I'm not sure. The other thing is I think she was dead." He opened his eyes and looked at his best friends. "Dead _before_ she spoke."

"But how—?" Hermione started and then stopped, remembering his request not to interrupt.

"It is a dream. As to why I think so, the dreamer seemed very surprised she had spoken—he jerked away when she did. This first woman was black and American, like I said earlier. Then the woman changed into a younger girl—Asian. And she spoke in a different language, Chinese or Japanese, I couldn't tell. She was dead too, her throat was ripped, like it had been bitten by some kind of animal."

"A werewolf?" Hermione offered.

"Or a vampire maybe?" Ron added.

"Then she changed into another girl, dark skin and braids in her hair. Her English was heavily accented—I don't know from where."

"Was she also dead?" Hermione asked and then clamped a hand over her mouth.

Harry laughed, "It is okay Hermione; I know you can't control your impulse to ask questions. And yes, she was also dead—her throat was slit. Then she changed again, into a blond this time, American again. The dreamer seemed to know this woman very well. She was lying atop a pile of rubble, unmoving, still as death. I'm pretty sure she was dead too, even though she didn't have any physical signs of how she died. But she did mention something about how _'the fall stung'_—Hermione?"

She nodded thoughtfully, "Yes, a fall from an extreme height can kill someone without leaving any outward marks. You said the dreamer knew her well?"

"Yes—she asked him if he remembered this night. I _think_ it was the night she died because she said that there was a lot of pain and death that night and that he was there—he said that he still had nightmares about her 'swan dive' – that is probably referring to the fall that killed her. Then they said something about trust—I didn't understand that part. She changed again, into another American Muggle, a brunette. Now her—" he stopped and laughed.

"What? Mate?" Ron asked, concerned.

"This girl, she started yelling at him like Ginny yelled at us earlier. Told him to stop feeling sorry for himself—that he had saved her life that night, just as he was meant to. She mentioned someone named Bunny or Buffy a few times. Then she asked him where he had been before he had started his 'pity party' as she called it. He answered," he closed his eyes again, concentrating. This seemed very important that he remember this part. Ron and Hermione stayed silent, letting him think. 

"He said that 'Your Big Sis was just here and before her there were other Slayers.' That seemed to make her remember and she continued talking, changing into the witch Elizabeth Potter." Harry opened his eyes and stared off into the fire. "Only she _didn't_ change."

"Didn't—but you just said—" Ron started.

"Her clothes changed from Muggle to robes and her accent changed from American to a proper British accent. But her voice and her face didn't change—she still looked like the girl who had just been yelling at the dreamer, only slightly older and, well, a witch. Her wand was tucked behind her ear and she started talking about returning to the wizarding world."

"Was this the last person?"

"No, there was one more. Elizabeth changed into a woman with dark hair and dark eyes, not a witch but she didn't seem to be a normal Muggle either. Her dress was very old fashioned and she had the same accent that the dreamer did. The last thing I heard was her saying that it was 'always about blood' and then Snape woke me up." 

Harry had hesitated at the end and Hermione seemed to notice. "Did you see anything else before Professor Snape woke you up?"

Harry frowned and rubbed his forehead thoughtfully. "I think that her eyes changed to yellow, but I am not sure. At the end I got very dizzy and then I was pulled out by Snape yelling my name and him slamming his hands on my worktable. Maybe I imagined the eyes, but considering the rest of the dream," he laughed, "maybe not." He turned to study his friends. Both were looked like they were thinking, but probably about two totally different things. "So, what do you think?"

Ron looked up first. "That you were right—it is certifiable." Harry burst out laughing. Ron waited until Harry calmed down before continuing. "But, as much as I wish we could dismiss it as the fish last night giving you crazy dreams, we can't. The Headmaster really recognized the woman you described as Elizabeth Potter?" Harry nodded.

"Could it just be coincidence—maybe you saw her picture somewhere and made this Muggle look like her?"

"No. The only pictures I have ever seen of my family are my parents. And even if I did make her look like a picture I saw, why would I make her into an American Muggle first and then turn her into a witch? Also, the man in the dream recognized her and called her Elizabeth. I have _never_ seen the dreamer before. Dumbledore wasn't the only one to recognize her, Phineas Nigellus did too."

Ron recognized the name vaguely but couldn't pinpoint where he had heard it before. Ron looked to Hermione for clarification and she huffed, exasperated, but answered, "A past Headmaster—his portrait is in the Headmaster's office. He also has a portrait in the House of Black—Sirius' Great-great-great grandfather."

Ron's face pursed and asked warily, "Slytherin?" Both Harry and Hermione nodded. His frown deepened. "I've heard some stories about him—Least Popular Headmaster ever. But he was Headmaster in the late 1800s…"

Hermione nodded. "Harry said Elizabeth has been dead for over 120 years. She would have been a student when he was Headmaster. And Dumbledore—that is about the same time he was here as a student too."

Ron was still doubtful. "But a Slytherin Headmaster remembering a Gryffindor student simply by a physical description?"

Harry shook his head, "She was a Ravenclaw and evidently quite brilliant. But there is something that I don't understand and you two know more about wizarding society than I do. Dumbledore said she died of consumption—but wouldn't the Medi-Wizards at St. Mungo's be able to cure that?"

"Consumption?" Ron asked.

"Tuberculosis and I don't know Harry. I know Muggles couldn't back then. But Wizards…?" Hermione shrugged, trailing off, and looked at Ron for the answer. 

Ron was frowning again in concentration, "I'm not sure, but I _thought_ St. Mungo's had a cure in the early 1800s. I do know that it was expensive, but the Potters could easily afford it." He shrugged, the frown melting away and chuckled. "But knowing me, I am remembering the wrong century and it was actually the early 1900s."

"It is easy enough to lookup. We can also try to find information about the Potters around that time, find out more about Elizabeth." Harry and Ron nodded, but Hermione was still deep in thought. Harry and Ron exchanged looks, knowing that Hermione was still working out what she really wanted to say. They waited, but when almost five minutes had passed, Ron spoke up.

"What else Hermione?"

"Hmm," she said absently, looking up at Ron uncomprehending.

"What are you really thinking about?"

"Oh, yes," Hermione's eyes seemed to light up. She turned to Harry, "It is something that you said, Harry, which has me thinking."

"Really? And here I thought we were talking about a vision I had in the middle of class," Ron said sarcastically, grinning at her. Harry also grinned as Hermione scowled at both of them.

"I think what Ron is trying to say, in his own eloquent Weasley way, is what specific part of what I said had you thinking so intently?"

Hermione sent one last scowl at Ron before answering. "It is the part where the Muggle American was yelling at the Dreamer. She said that Spike had saved her life, correct?" Harry nodded, frowning. "Well, to me at least, it seems she is the only person alive in the dream besides the dreamer. Did you two get that impression?"

Ron shrugged, but Harry continued to frown. _'You never failed to protect me.'_ Present tense. But then she said, _'I am glad I got a chance to say this: Thanks. For Everything.'_ 'Got a chance' sounded like past tense. She could be alive, but then again she could be dead, dead being more likely.

"I don't know Hermione. She could be alive and she could be dead."

"That's true. But what I was thinking of when she asked him about where he had been before he started his pity party." She smiled, "I don't think yelling at him was a planned part of the dream—it is the only part that doesn't seem to fit. It was as if—" Hermione stopped, trying to form her idea. Her next question was a totally different topic, "Harry, why were you pulled into the dream?"

Harry just stared at her blankly for a moment, thinking _why the sudden topic change?_ Then he shook himself, Hermione's mind worked different than theirs most of the time, so maybe this had something to do with the girl. _Then again, maybe not._ "The Headmaster said that I was pulled into the dream because of a connection to something in the dream. The same reason I am pulled into Voldemort's dreams, my connection to him. He thinks that it was my connection to my great aunt. But…" He trailed off, thinking about what Phineas had said: _'Perhaps even two.'_

"But what Harry?"

"Well, after the Headmaster identified that the woman was Elizabeth Potter, he summarily threw me out of his office, refusing to tell me anything more about her. Even Phineas was immediately closed mouth. I think it's the dreamer that is important, more so than Elizabeth." He faced Hermione, staring into her eyes, imploring her to help him. "It was a comment Phineas said. I told Dumbledore that the Dreamer looked as though he had seen a ghost when Elizabeth appeared. The Headmaster said that I most likely had seen a ghost if the woman was who he thought she was—the ghost of Elizabeth Potter. That was when he called for Nigellus' opinion.

"Phineas said that I had seen a ghost—this Elizabeth—and then added, almost as an afterthought: Maybe even two." Hermione's face shifted, to slightly surprised and then to intense thought.

"Two what?" Ron asked.

"Two ghosts Ron," Hermione said impatiently.

Ron held up his hands in defense, "Hey—don't attack me! It's just that if all the people Harry saw are dead except that one girl, didn't he see a lot more than two ghosts?"

Harry looked at Ron, shocked, and then turned to Hermione, who wore a similar expression. Then Hermione grinned, "Brilliant Ron—of course you are right!" 

Ron smiled happily, but then it fell away as he said, "Then the two ghosts the old headmaster was referring to are two _wizarding_ ghosts."

"_Exactly_ Ron! Phineas must have thought that the dreamer, who is the only other wizard in the dream, could also be a ghost." 

Ron put in, "But a ghost can't dream."

"I don't think he meant ghost literally—the woman I saw wasn't a ghost, just an image of a dead witch. Maybe he just thought the dreamer resembled a dead wizard he knew?" Harry said carelessly. 

Hermione studied him for a moment and then turned to Ron, who shrugged his shoulders and grinned at her, "Seems logical to me and it explains how a ghost can dream."

Hermione nodded, "And it does support my theory that the young woman, who is the image of Elizabeth Potter, is alive."

Now Harry was confused and it felt like his head was spinning, "Okay, how does what I said support _that?_"

Hermione chewed on her lip, trying to think how to explain her idea. "The Dreamer is a real person somewhere, we agree on that?" Both boys nodded. "And can we agree that he is, or was at one time, a wizard? Because Elizabeth spoke of him returning to the wizarding world." Ron nodded. Harry thought for a second and then also agreed. She continued.

"So, if Dumbledore and the old Headmaster did recognize two dead wizards, one is the Dreamer and the other is the girl arguing with the dreamer. So the Dreamer, who is an image of a dead wizard, is real and alive, then…" She trailed off, leaving it to the boys to make the last connection. She _hoped_ they could make this leap of logic. 

Harry frowned; the Dreamer was one of the ghosts, so that meant that the Muggle American girl was the other ghost, Elizabeth Potter. And if the Dreamer was alive, then that meant she was, too. Harry looked up sharply and finished Hermione's statement, "Then the Muggle American girl, who is an image of the dead witch Elizabeth Potter, is also real and alive." He looked to Ron to see if he understood and, after a moment, his face lit up, indicating that he, also, understood.

Hermione nodded her face bright, smiling with pride that they had made the final leap of logic by themselves. "Yes Harry! I think that she is alive, just like the dreamer Spike, and that she was also pulled into the dream, just like you. Her connection is with the Dreamer. Your connection is the ghost, who is connected to the girl."

Harry nodded. He understood, most of it anyway.

Ron asked, "Who do you think the other ghost is?"

"Well, he knew Elizabeth when she was alive. A classmate?" Harry pondered aloud.

"Harry, how is she related to you—she's an aunt and her last name is Potter, so was it her brother that is your great-something grandfather?" Hermione prompted.

"Dumbledore mentioned two younger brothers: William and Richard. Richard is my grandfather." Harry stopped, thinking about the two brothers. Both were surely dead. "Are we assuming that ghosts look physically similar to the live person?" Harry asked.

Hermione nodded, "You said that her clothes and accent changed, but she remained the same. So the other ghost would look exactly like this Spike—what kind of name is Spike anyway?"

Ron chuckled, "No idea."

Harry also laughed, "It sounds like a name for a dog, not a person. But they did look similar: bright blue eyes, brown hair. His was curly and hers straight, but I guess they could be brother and sister."

"'Mione, why are we talking about the girl anyway?"

Hermione thought for a second, collecting her thoughts. "It was something she said, when she forgot what she was supposed to say next…"

"She asked Spike what had happened before she showed up—was that it?" Harry supplied.

"Yes! His answer was 'Your Big Sis was just here and before her, there were other Slayers' – I think that this is the key to the dream."

"Why?"

"Well, what he said made the dream continue, didn't it?" Harry shrugged, _how was he to know?_ Hermione huffed and said, "The girl changed, shifted into Elizabeth, right after he said that, correct?" Harry nodded. "Then something in the comment reminded the girl why she was in the dream in the first place and what was to come next."

"Maybe," Harry said, thinking about what the man had said:_ 'Big Sis was just here and before her, there were other Slayers'_ –whatever a Slayer is—meaning that the first four women were all Slayers. The four girls were all _dead _Slayers. Harry winced. _Well, that thought was morbid_. Harry wanted to make sure he understood the comment, so he asked, "Hermione, am I correct in assuming that his statement meant that those first four women were all Slayers?" 

She nodded solemnly and added, "All dead Slayers. But why did they all appear to this man?" She was quiet for a second and then asked, "What did they say to him?" 

Harry stared at her blankly and she sighed, explaining, "You commented about their accents, so they had to have said something—what was it?"

Harry closed his eyes, concentrating on remembering the images and sounds. _'For me'_ – they had said that and something else. Something he thought was bizarre—more so than the rest of the dream. _What was it?_

"Harry?" Ron said quietly.

"Sshhhh," Harry said, holding up a hand. 'For me' – _what _was for them? He had done something monumental for them, these Slayers, whoever they are. Something that should be impossible for any living person to do—_living person_—the dreamer is alive and what is impossible for someone currently alive to have done and still be alive? Harry thought idly, _dying and still managing to stay alive would be impressive—_ Death—he died and is still alive! His eyes popped open and he looked at Hermione in alarm. 

"What is it Harry?"

"I can't believe I am saying this—Ron, you are going to love this and Hermione, you are not going to believe me, but this is what they said to him:

"You died. For me."

Ron just looked at him blankly and so did Hermione.

"And don't tell me it's not possible—I _know_ it's not possible, but that is what they said. Of course we are talking about four dead Slayers talking to some former wizard in his dream. And what the heck is a Slayer?" Harry added, exasperated.

Ron put his head in his hands and groaned. "All this talk about being alive and dead and a ghost or not and Muggle or wizard is giving me a headache. Trying to straighten everything out is making me dizzy."

Harry agreed. "Yes, no more talking about my vision of a dream—well, only if you can tell me what a Slayer is?"

Ron hit him and smiled, "Ask the Room." 

The moment Ron finished his sentence, a blackboard materialized off to one side of the fireplace and writing appeared on it in slow, sloping chalk-marks:

_Into each generation a Slayer is born. One girl in all the world, a __Chosen__ One. One born with the strength and skill to fight the vampires, to stop the spread of their evil and the swell of their numbers. She is the Slayer._

"Good call Ron," Harry said, "It probably was a vampire that ripped that girl's throat out. Now we know _what_ a Slayer is, what do we do about it?"

Ron said wistfully, "It's too bad that there is only one girl, this Slayer, because she would be bloody useful in the war. You-Know-Who will definitely have the vampires on their side."

Harry agreed, nodding his head. _Having someone around who was meant to fight vampires could be very useful in the near future._ Tentatively moving his left wrist, hissing at the pain, Harry suggested, "Maybe we could try finding this bloke Spike, he seemed to know those Slayers, maybe he knows the current one."

"He knew the _Dead_ Slayers. And how are you going to find him Harry? Call information and ask for Spike?"

"It's worth a try," Harry mumbled petulantly, looking down at his left hand. If it still hurt tomorrow, he would have to go see Madame Pomfrey and get the bones checked. _But could Ginny **really** have fractured the bones with simply her grip? Not likely. _Harry snorted to himself and joined Hermione and Ron in brainstorming their next course of action, throwing out ideas. 

"Try to find the girl?"

"Look up Elizabeth Potter?"

"Figure out who the 'Spike' bloke is?"

"Try to find him?"

"Find out where the teachers went tonight?"

"Practice the new spells Harry was learning?"

"Start our homework."

At that suggestion, Ron and Harry both threw pillows at Hermione. Then the boys looked at each other and said at the same time, grinning, "Quidditch!" Hermione just groaned.

**+++**

**Time:**           ~13:00 EST (GMT-5) 

**Location:**     Temporary North American Headquarters, _Watchers Council _

                     _Hellmouth_, Cleveland, OH   USA

~@~@~@~

"Dawn." No response, so the Slayer, one Buffy Summers, tried a little louder, "Dawn!"

Dawn batted away the hand that was shaking her with an, "Emphh!" Then she rolled over, muttering, "Go 'way!" and burying her head into the pillow.

Buffy turned to Willow, who was typing furiously on her laptop, confused. "Willow, I thought you said that you slept on the Red-Eye from Honolulu."

Without looking up, Willow answered, "I did. When I woke up briefly in the middle of the night, Dawn was wide awake." Willow then looked up at Buffy, eyebrows drawn together, "Is Dawn still sleeping?"

Buffy nodded. Another head, bent over one of those old books written in a number of obscure languages, none being English, popped her head up. "She had a nightmare." 

Buffy turned to her, blinking in surprise that the girl's words sounded very Giles-ish. She really shouldn't be surprised, strangers—almost all new Slayers—were constantly joining their merry little band from Sunnydale: former Hellmouth, now simply a large crater where the town used to stand, but none had so resembled her watcher. "And you are?"

"Oh, I'm sorry I didn't introduce myself—I hadn't realized that anyone had joined us until you spoke and then—" She stood, nervously using her fingers to wipe the dust off her lenses, then wiping the dust from her hands on her slacks and stuck out her hand. "Catheryn."

"A Slayer?" Buffy asked as she took the girl's hand. The handshake told Buffy what she needed to know, but she still waited to hear her answer.

Catheryn answered, nervously laughing as she withdrew her hand and waved it dismissively, "No, no. I am a Watcher—well, in training to be a watcher. My father—" she stopped, choking as she looked away. She quietly added, "I'm all that's left of the Hawaii outpost."

Buffy nodded automatically, understanding what was not said:_ her_ _father, a Watcher, his colleagues and his Slayer in training were all killed by the agents of the First._ However, she was confused by one thing, "Kate, how is it you survived?" All the other attacks where the Watcher and Slayer in training were killed, _everyone_ at the Watcher outpost were also killed and the post itself was usually burned to the ground.

Catheryn grimaced, but turned back toward the Slayer with tears in her eyes and answered, "I was at University when they attacked. I—I was called home for the weekend, a fire they said. The fire was put out before any real damage was done to our archives, but it—it was too late to—to save them." Then she smiled in triumph through her tears, "But **_I _**survived."

Willow looked up, smiling, "See, this is why I like her—she saved the Watcher archives, which are priceless tomes, and she's a survivor of the First, just like us."

Buffy also smiled, but it wasn't a happy smile. She couldn't help remembering who hadn't survived the final battle with the First, the person she felt most deserved to survive. _Spike._ _But he hadn't._ The First had tortured him for months on end, confusing him with specters of all he had killed, feeding his guilt. The guilt of a vampire with a soul, a soul that he had earned for _her_, to be the kind of man she deserved, the kind of man she could _love_. The man who had been brainwashed by the First, programmed to kill, and who had overcome and broken the brainwashing with the help of her and her friends. 

He was the same man who had stood by her side in battle for years, who she had entrusted the care of her sister, "Until the end of the world," and had honored that promise for the 147 days that she had been dead. She knew it had been 147 days because he had counted everyday that she had been gone. **_Damn it_**_, why did he have to go and die?_ The logical answer is that he died to save the world, just like she had done once, died as the Champion she knew him to be. 

_He wore an amulet and, because he did, saved us all._ "A very powerful and possibly very dangerous amulet that bestows strength to the right person who wears it, someone ensouled, but stronger than human. _A Champion_." He wore this amulet, this mystical piece of jewelry, not knowing what it would do, only that it would aid in the fight against the First, and it destroyed him. This amulet used his soul to purify the Hellmouth, to seal the Hellmouth, to kill every vampire there, to kill every single member of the First's army. Destroyed _every_ vampire, including the one that bore both the amulet and the soul.

He died to close the Hellmouth, to destroy the army of the First and to save the army of Slayers. He had died for her, just as he had earned his soul for her. _And he couldn't believe that she loved him?_ He really is dense—or _was_ dense, because he's dead. _And he didn't believe her_—if she just had had more time, she would make him believe her, damn it! He was a survivor too, until he became a Champion of the Light and died for those he loved. _I love you too Spike._

Willow blanched when she saw the look on Buffy's face, a look so much like the one she wore the beginning of their senior year, after having to kill Angel to save the world. "Buffy, I'm sorry, I didn't mean—" Willow started to babble an apologize but Buffy cut her off.

"It's okay, Wills," Buffy smiled at her red-headed friend. "You are right, we are survivors and that is always something to be proud of." Buffy turned to the brunette newcomer when the watcher in training cleared her through, frowning at them and shifting her weight from one foot to another. 

"Sorry, my mother always told me I talk too much when I'm nervous—always telling people more than they want to know about me and—" Buffy stopped her before she really got going.

"What Willow said just reminded me of the loved ones we lost in the fight. It wasn't anything you said." Catheryn nodded her head, looking at her feet. Buffy shrugged at Willow who just shrugged back and glanced at Dawn. "Kate, you said something about Dawn having a nightmare."

"Oh, yes. She jerked awake. It was her hitting her head on the overhead bins and the sound it made that woke me momentarily. She said something and started to cry. I tried to talk to her later but she just stared out the window. I'm not sure if she even heard me."

Willow added that Dawn had been wide awake when Willow woke up in the morning and looked like she hadn't gone back to sleep.

Buffy frowned. She could think of only one thing that Dawn might dream about that would give her nightmares: _Buffy jumping off the tower to her death. _But _why_ she would have that nightmare now, it didn't make sense. Buffy absently heard Willow asking the young watcher what Dawn had said. Buffy looked up at Kate for her answer.

Catheryn was rubbing the back of her head, looking at her feet and trying to remember what Dawn had said. "Ummm, she something that started with an S. Give me a moment and I'll remember it."

Willow's eyes were wide as she looked at Buffy. Buffy tried to keep her face neutral and her voice even as she asked, "Kate, was the word 'Spike'?"

Catheryn's face snapped up to look at Buffy and nodded, "Yes, that was it. How did you know?" Then she paused and added, very reminiscent of the once stuffy Wesley Wyndam-Pryce, "And please, my name is _Catheryn_," her face scrunched up as if she had eaten something sour, "Not _Cate_."

"Damn," Buffy muttered, ignoring Kate's last comment, making her way to the couch where Dawn was and sitting beside her sleeping form. She stroked her sister's hair, just like their mother had when one of them had had a nightmare. "Dawnie, you need to wake up." Dawn grunted a negative sound. Louder, she insisted, "Dawn, I need you to wake up. I know you had a nightmare." Dawn mumbled something into the cushions. "Dawn, you are going to have to repeat that, I don't think the furniture can understand you."

Dawn flipped over slowly, eyes still closed and, leaning into her older sister's hand, said somewhat clearer, "I said't wasn' a nightmare."

"No?" Buffy asked and Dawn shook her head slightly. "But you were upset?" Dawn nodded affirmative. "Why? What did you dream about?"

Dawn kept her eyes closed but a tear still escaped. "I was dreaming about Spike."

"Honey, I dream about him too," Buffy told her softly, still stroking her hair and wiping away the tear. "I still get upset, it's perfectly normal." 

Dawn opened her eyes then and looked up at her older sister. "But it wasn't a normal dream, like memories replaying or changing. It was like I was standing there and talking to him, just like I'm talking to you now."

"It is amazing what a mind can conjure up."

Dawn smiled sadly, "Yes, but it was _so_ real. When I suddenly woke up, I expected him to be there right in front of me, to continue our talk. But he wasn't there—" Then Dawn frowned, trying to figure something out and shook her head, saying, "What is strange is I don't really dream about Spike often." 

At the stricken look on her sister's face, Dawn hurriedly continued, "I mean, I miss him, don't get me wrong. I love him, he was an older brother to me, always looking out for me and protecting me." She scrunched up her face in frustration and pouted, "It is hard to get a date when your Big Brother scares them all away by flashing fangs and threatening to rip his arms off and using them to beat him to death if the boy looks at me the wrong way."

Buffy burst out laughing at this. "He—he didn't really say that," she kept laughing, "Did he?"

Dawn growled in a way that would impress a vampire and mumbled, "Yes he did." Then she continued her earlier thought, "I just mean that I don't dream about having conversations with him that we never really had. I dream about him telling me stories in his crypt or playing poker, but those are all memories, nothing like this."

Now Buffy was curious, asking, "What did you talk about?"

"I yelled at him." That made Buffy start laughing again, not as hard this time though. "He was feeling guilty about your—your _death_—and not protecting me and I told him to stop it, which _is _a conversation that we did have a lot. But it—it was the next comment that was strange." Dawn looked straight into Buffy's eyes and said, "I said that he had done what he was meant to do that night, that he—" Dawn choked and Buffy ran her fingers through her hair.

"That he what Dawnie? It doesn't do any good to keep your feelings trapped inside, I should know—I _am_ the expert at it."

Dawn nodded and restarted, "That he stopped the bloodletting long enough to keep me from dying that night—that otherwise you wouldn't have reached me in time."

Buffy absorbed the comment and glanced back at Willow, who was also struck silent. Willow asked the question Buffy was about to ask, "Dawnie, you sound like you are stating this for a fact." Dawn nodded, which lead to the next logical question, "How do you know this?"

"I just _know,_ both in the dream and here, that it is true," Dawn said simply.

"Ok Miss Watcher-lady, this is your area. Why is my sister, _not_ a slayer, getting a dream that sounds eerily like a _slayer dream_?" Buffy asked over her shoulder.

"I would like to remind you that I am not a Watcher _yet_, simply in training. Also, I do not recognize the man in Miss Summers' dream—"

Buffy quickly added, "One of the friends we lost in the final battle."

"Oh—then he is dead. Maybe—maybe he is trying to give Miss Summers a message."

"Two years after the event?" Willow asked, but Dawn merely shook her head negatively.

"The dream wasn't about that, I just used it as an example of how he has always protected me when I needed him to," Dawn shrugged her shoulders as she sat up, swiping her hair out of her face. "It's just that it was so real and—well," she paused, looking from Willow to Buffy, before she continued, "He looked different too—his hair…" she trailed off and shook her head, a small laugh escaping her. "He looks very different without his hair bleached."

Buffy also chuckled and nodded, "Yes, it's naturally dark brown and very curly if he doesn't gel it back…" She trailed off, the smile fading from her face. _She was speaking in present tense again, as if he was still alive, which he wasn't._

Willow was intrigued. "So the Spike in your dream had brown hair? Was there any bleach, like it had grown out?"

Dawn shook her head, "No, no bleach at all and just like Buffy said, very curly. Also, he was wearing glasses, and he didn't seem to notice that he was, so I assume he is used to wearing them."

Buffy's head snapped up at that. "Glasses? That's strange…" Buffy paused and then looked straight at her sister with a strange smile. "Dawn, you just described what Spike looked like when he was human. Huh," and she shook her head.

"Oh, so instead of having a conversation with a dusted vampire-with-a-soul, I am talking to a dusted vampire-with-a-soul that looks like he did when he was alive, all in my dreams. I feel so much better," Dawn scowled sarcastically and then rolled back over. "And now I am going back to sleep. I feel crazy enough by myself, I don't need you three helping me feel crazier," she said firmly before burying her face again, making a 'go away' motion with her hand.

As Buffy stood up, Willow leaned in and whispered, "I didn't know Spike wore glasses." She kept walking for a moment, thinking, and then stopped, grabbing Buffy to a stop also. "Wait, glasses in the late 19th century, only people that were educated would need them…"

Buffy smiled at her gaping friend and patted her hand, "He knows quite a few languages, his Latin is especially proficient or, well, it _was_. Don't worry; it gave me quite a shock too."

"But," Willow continued, confused and trying to reconcile an educated William with the brash chain-smoking vampire Spike, "his name from when he was mortal was William _the Bloody_—?"

"Now _that_ is a secret. You'll have to ask Spike or have Dawn ask him the next time she dreams about him—_Now__ that's an idea_." Buffy turned around and walked back to her sister. She leaned down and whispered, "Next time you talk to Spike, tell him that I didn't just say it, I meant it."

Buffy laughed at her sister's response, "I will if you go away and let me sleep. Oh, and _never_ put me on another Red-Eye flight!"

Turning back to Willow, Buffy watched in amusement as the witch, ignoring the irate teenager on the couch, continued thinking about Spike, still standing in the middle of the room. "William the Bloody," Willow muttered to herself, shaking her head. She did look up at the ringing of the phone, slightly startled at the unexpected noise. It rang once before Catheryn picked it up.

"Hello, North American Headquarters, Cleveland Ohio. Catheryn Wynd—" She stopped suddenly, her eyes widening. She nodded, saying nervously, "Yes, yes, of _course_ Mr. Giles. Oh," she gasped, "My uncle—he's—yes, sorry." 

Catheryn turned to Willow, frowning as she held out the phone, and said simply, "It's the Coven."

+++

**Notes about Canon Buffy: **the _First_ is short for "The First Evil," which is the incorporeal embodiment of all the evil on the earth.

_A Slayer dream_ show portents, signs of an Apocalypse or an upcoming prophecy. The dreams are similar to a Seer's visions in the fact that they warn the person seeing it of something in the future. Slayer dreams are symbolic, not to be taken literally and are meant to warn the Slayer who has the dream, where a Seer's vision is almost always meant to warn someone besides the Seer. The Powers-That-Be, the beings that would choose the next slayer when the active slayer died; sometimes try to send direct messages to the dreamer

**Canon Spike:** When Spike was still alive, his nickname was "William the Bloody." 

As a human, Spike was an aristocrat. His hair was long and unruly and he's dressed as a proper gentleman, complete with tie and reading spectacles. He was a shy socialite who wrote really horrible poetry as a way to express his feelings. His fellow Peers gave him the cruel nickname "William the Bloody" for his "bloody awful poetry." In 1880 he was turned into a vampire.

++

To the lovely reviewers:

**Trillium, Silverfox1**: Just stay calm. I'm not going to kill Draco…yet *grin*  We will see him next chapter. Sorry, no Malfoy fix this time.

**Ghost Whisper**: So glad that you like it. This is a very different approach to a Buffy/Harry Potter crossover, I know, but it's just how I see it and it makes sense, to me at least. And I love having Spike as a major character, he is such a complex character and fun to explore.****

**Caliope**: Glad you like this! Connor and Spike's relationship is fun and I think it is healthy for both of them. They need the companionship. We will see them next chapter, don't worry.

**Lady L**: Thanks – for everything! Hey, isn't that exactly what Dawn told Spike in the dream in the Prologue? lol, too funny!

++


	6. Ch 5: Femmes Fatale

**Worlds Wrought & Ruined**

**_Chapter 5: _****_Femmes Fatale_**

**Spoilers:** _Buffy_ Season 7; _Angel_ Season 4; _Harry Potter_, Books 1 thru 5

**Disclaimer: **Buffy the Vampire Slayer and all associated characters, settings, etc., belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, UPN, etc. Harry Potter and all associated characters, setting, props, etc., belong to J.K. Rowling, Scholastic Inc., etc. No copyright infringement is intended.

Thanks to my brilliant Beta **Lady Lestrange**. Lady L _Rocks! _

More thanks to my fellows at **The_Seers_Truth** group for reading.

And **Radia****, Lady Lestrange,** **Usakura****, Benjis VIP, Eloe, Silverfox1**, **Trillium, Astria**, & **angelsou**– thanks for all reviewing – it is definitely _sisshauss_. Responses to reviews are at the end.

+++

**Chapter 5**

**_Femmes Fatale_**

+++

**Time:**           ~18:00 GMT 

**Location:**     Abandoned Hallway, _Hogwarts__School__ of Witchcraft and Wizardry _

                     Scotland UK

~@~@~@~

Ginny was beyond frustrated and not in the mood to deal with the irritating Slytherin after dealing with three stubborn Gryffindors. She turned to face him slowly and asked sarcastically, "What—do you get off on me hexing you or are you developing some Gryffindor bad habits?"

"Bad habits?" Draco Malfoy asked.

"Yes, going out of your way to find trouble."

"You think that you—a _Weasley_—are trouble for me—a _Malfoy_?"

She smirked at him, cocking her head to the side. "A Malfoy I have repeatedly hexed—"

He backed her into the wall as they were talking and had suddenly pressed a forearm across her neck while also grabbing her wrist of the hand holding her wand. He smirked down at her.

"What was that you were saying, little girl?"

"Bastard! Let me go or—"

"Or what?" he leaned down to whisper in her ear. "No one is here to rescue you," he taunted, pressing harder against her.

She ground her teeth and let out a growl. "Rescue? From the school bully—ha!"

"Well, I have you pinned…" She grinned at this and Draco faltered, scowling, "What are you smiling about?"

"Mal-ferret," his scowl deepened at the name, "you forget I have 6 older brothers."

He tightened his grip on her wand and said warily, "Yes—so—"

Her right hand twisted around in his grip, jerked her hand free through his thumb and grabbed his wrist. With her left hand, she grabbed the robe at his shoulder as she moved closer to him.  She hooked her right leg around his left with a bent knee and snapped her leg straight. Simultaneously, she pushed hard with her left hand, pulled with her right and let go. Unprepared for a physical attack, his head whacked the floor when he fell. 

Ginny moved her leg back to the right leg, standing straight, and immediately had her wand trained on him as he looked up at her, sneering, a hand cradling the back of his head.

"See, no rescue needed Malfoy. Your move."

He held both hands out in front of him, signaling he meant no harm with his movements. She didn't move her wand as he stood up and dusted his robes off, straightening them. Then his wand was out too, pointing straight at Ginny's head. She showed a moment of surprise and then narrowed her eyes at him, giving him a small grin.

"Very nice move—pulling out your wand while straightening your robes—I will have to remember that. So what's next, do we hex each other into oblivion? Remember, you came after me."

"True," he smirked and then, just as fast as his wand had appeared, it was gone, tucked back into his robes. Ginny narrowed her eyes even further, but lowered her wand and instead crossed her arms across her chest with her wand still in hand. She shifted her weight and tilted her head towards him in a silent challenge. 

He chuckled at her, "As fun as terrorizing you _always_ is, amazingly, it is not the reason I followed you."

"Well then, what is it you want Malfoy?"

"There are so many answers to that question, what do I want…" he gave her a grin reminiscent of a shark, keeping his eyes fastened on her as he circled her, stopping when she spoke.

She scowled, "What do you want from me, tonight?"

"Now—what makes you think I want something—maybe I just want to enjoy your delightful company," Draco said as his grin widened.

Ginny snorted, raising an eyebrow at him as she leaned against the wall, one leg bent with the foot flat on the wall, ready to push off the wall. "Then you do get off on me hexing you," she smirked cheekily and raised both eyebrows, "Kinky."

He scowled, turning away from her in frustration and taking a few steps, saying, "Little girl—I in no way enjoy having those—" he faced her again, waving one hand near his head, "Bat-things—circling my head, so disavow yourself of that notion immediately." He smiled tightly, "Maybe I enjoy your stimulating conversational skills."  
  


Her smile widened, "Well, yes, I can see how you might. So, what 'stimulating conversation' would you like to engage? Presently, I seem to be available."

"No need for sarcasm—after all, it is the wit for a feeble mind—Weasley." The humor left his voice, "I want to talk about Potions class and Potter."

"Harry isn't in my class—sorry to disappoint," she smiled cheekily.

"Not your Potions class, little girl—Potter's class." he said irritably.

She shrugged her shoulders carelessly, "What about it?"

"What happened to Potter?"

"I don't know."

"No?" he asked aggressively, obviously not believing her. She shook her head again. He stalked up to her, wand in hand, grabbed her upper arm in a bruising grip and put the tip of his wand under her nose. He ground out angrily, "Don't lie to me girl," shaking her arm for emphasis.

She looked him directly in the eyes, her face empty of all humor. "I'm not. I have no idea what you are talking about. So something happened in Potions to Harry—interesting—that could explain some errant behavior." He dropped the point of his wand from her face. Instantly, she jerked her arm from his grasp and batted his arm away angrily. 

Then, using the blunt end of her wand, she poked him in the chest, emphasizing her next words, "But—I—Don't—Know—What—You—Are—Talking—About. Understand?"

He took one step back, challenging her, glaring, "Then what was that commotion at dinner?" she opened her mouth to answer but he kept talking, "And don't you dare say 'What commotion?' or 'I don't know' because I saw you in the thick of it."

She smirked, eyes twinkling, "Me, a Gryffindor, lying—the thought never crossed my mind." It was his turn to snort in disbelief. "At dinner I stopped them from taking off and doing something extremely stupid. That's all," she said, shrugging her shoulders casually, never taking her eyes from the Slytherin.

The retort was out of his mouth before she finished. "Like running off to the Department of Mysteries?" Draco said amused, enjoying the irony. 

She responded sharply, "That is _not_ something you want to be talking about Malfoy."

His grinned nastily and took a small step towards her, asking, "Touchy subject?" With a malicious glint in his eyes, he added innocently, "Something—_serious?_"

She closed the space between them and snarled up at him, "Yes it is, especially for you—it wasn't _my_ father there, leading the Death Eaters, trying to kill school children his son's age."

He jerked back as if hit by a physical blow, "He wasn't—they weren't trying to kill anyone—"

"Oh, so the threat to finish off the Longbottom family by killing Neville was a jest on your father's part." She took another step forward, as far as Draco had stepped back and her face twisted in more anger, "_Not Kill_—well they did!"

"He wasn't leading them," he protested weaker than before, taking another step back.

She spoke as she took another step forward, "He was! He spoke first—made the demands—ordered the Death Eaters about, each by name!" He opened his mouth to make another protest and she grabbed his chin, growling, "And don't EVEN tell me that it wasn't him—I know his voice and he was in charge." 

She let go of his chin, still seeing disbelief in his face, and reigned in her anger to use reasoning instead. She challenged him, "Do you have so little faith in your father to think that he would let someone else lead?"

He raised his chin haughtily, looking down his nose are her and said, "A Malfoy does not follow."

Ginny took a small step back, slipping her wand discretely into her robes, and perched her hands on her hips. "Oh? Really—not even Voldemort?"

He flinched at the name but did not back down and stated certainly, "Imperius—"

She leaned forward, "Bull-shit! Your Devil of a Father is too strong to be so well controlled by Imperius for such a long period of time." Then she grabbed his robes and pulled him toward her, determined to make her point. "And no one was there to use Imperius to make him give me that _damned _diary!!"

He pulled away, immediately defending his father, "He wouldn't—" and then he stopped, puzzled, _what was the little girl talking about? _"What diary?"

Ginny's eyes widened in alarm, _shit—why had she said that!_ "Nothing," she said frantically, her eyes darting back and forth, increasing Draco's interest. _New topic—something to distract him_—"At dinner, Harry wanted to follow Professor Lupin to wherever Professor McGonagall was so frantic to take him, pulling him out of the Great Hall. You did see them leave?" 

~@~

_What was the little girl talking about? _"What diary?" _And when in this conversation did he loose control?_

The girl's eyes widened and she tried to quickly push it aside and distract him. _What had spooked her?_

Absently taking in the little girl's question, Draco's mind was frantically trying to process everything from the Department of Mysteries to his father leading the Death Eaters to Imperius to a diary to the werewolf leaving dinner. His head felt like it was spinning—_how did they get from Imperius to a diary to dinner? _She's trying to distract you—she suddenly changed—when?_ Imperius to a diary, then, then—she panicked and started babbling about dinner. And she had just asked him a question—what—see them leave?_ "Yes—out the side door, but why—?"

She pressed on, "Didn't you notice anyone else missing from dinner?"

A moment to digest and then picturing the tables, scanning, then moving to the Head Table—there and comprehension. "Snape and Dumbledore. McGonagall came in to get the Werewolf and—someone else—the Giant." He focused on her eyes and narrowed his own, "All to aid the Headmaster."

She shrugged and quickly looked away, "Maybe."

"And the Golden Trio wanted to know why and intended to follow." He took his hand and turned her face until she was looking at his face, holding her head there. "That's what you stopped them from doing. Why?"

She didn't say anything, just tried to jerk her head away but he held it in place.

Not to be deterred he asked the question again, "You said you stopped them from doing something extremely stupid."

"Yes."

"What did you stop them from doing—was it following McGonagall?"  
  


She kept her mouth closed, still staring at him. "Weasley—" he growled.

She cut him off, "Why should I tell you—what's in it for me?"

Draco's eyes widened—a _Weasley_ asking that. His eyes narrowed in suspicion—but this was the little girl, not her oafish brother. The little girl who could out duel him half the time and had that nasty specialty she so loved to use. _What was it called—those bogey flying things—ah, yes, the Bat-Bogey Hex._ "What do you want?"

"Hmmm," she mumbled and seemed to start thinking, chewing on her bottom lip. Her eyes were moving back and forth, likely evaluating her options—the pros & cons. Then she fashioned her eyes on him. _Guess she decided._ "Well, you want information from me, right?"

He nodded warily. 

"Then I want information from you in exchange."

"About what?" he asked warily.

She grinned broadly. "Your Potions class – you have me intrigued now."

Draco scowled at her, eyes narrowing suspiciously, and demanded, "Why do you want to know?"

"That is none of your business," she said sharply, pointing a finger in his face – almost scolding him. Then she crossed her arms over her chest and settled a glare at him, "I didn't ask you why you want to know about dinner – so what makes you think I would tell you why?"

He gave her an innocent look and drawled, "Simply curious as to why you are asking me instead of the Golden Trio? The Weasel is your brother." 

She stared at him, brown eyes locked with grey, calculating, and then broke the stare, "Maybe I want to know the truth," he raised an eyebrow at her and his smile widened. She smugly continued, "Which I know you'll tell me or I won't tell _you_ the truth." She pursed her lips and stared right into his eyes, her brown eyes darkening solemnly, and said, "I _hate _having the truth kept from me or receiving the edited version for 'my own good.'" 

She gripped her hands into fists and muttered, "They all seem to forget that I, too, have grown up and, amazingly, my brain has also seems to have matured. I am capable of independent thought from my brothers, my family, my house." 

Ginny paused and gave Malfoy a piercing look before continuing, "Of course you, the Malfoy heir, a clone of his father and expected to follow blindly in his footsteps, wouldn't understand the urge to exercise independent thinking." She ended by giving him a cheeky grin.

He scowled darkly at her, and growled, "Bloody bint."

Playfully, she dug a little father into him, playing with fire, "Ah, your hive-mind can't comprehend that beyond it being an insult?" _That_ garnered the reaction she was looking for.

He slammed his hand into the stone wall next to Ginny's head, not trying to hurt her she realized, simply physically loosing the pent up anger, and glared down at her, saying sharply, "Little girl—I understand _perfectly_, but _some_ of us do not have a choice. And maybe I like it."

She tilted her head to the side thoughtfully and said softly, "He's in Azkaban."

He jerked his head away from her gaze, taking a step back from her, and murmured, "For now." A pause and then he turned back to her, eyes hard again and asked in a business like tone, "So do we have a deal to an exchange of information: I tell you about Potions class and you tell me about the commotion at dinner."

She was still staring at him, head tilted, with damned knowing eyes that seemed to be assessing the thoughts he had just pushed aside. Then she blinked and nodded her head. When she looked back at him, the eyes were gone. "Agreed. You first—and before you ask why, it is simply because I do not trust you to tell me your information if I tell you first."

His face was blank for a moment and then he smirked, nodding once to her in acknowledgement. "Possibly. Very cunning of you, little girl—are you _sure_ you are a Gryffindor?"

She leveled a strange, assessing look at him and said levelly, "The Weasley part of me is." The bizarre statement made him feel like she was toying with him, purposely provoking him. _Why? Was she trying to distract him again?_

"You have a part of you that isn't Weasley?" he joked, but she nodded seriously. Then he asked incredulously, "And this other part of you is Slytherin—I find it hard to believe that there is a single Slytherin in your family."

"There is not," she said simply, looking away.

_Damn it, he hated puzzles._ Frustrated, he asked, "Then how are you a part Slytherin?"

She smiled up at him coyly, and that, more than anything else, set him on edge. That smile looked like it belonged to a demon. "A Riddle," she said simply and then the smile fell. "Do we have a deal?" she asked and stuck out her hand. 

End of discussion—_a riddle.__ Great, even better than a puzzle._ "Yes," he said as he nodded and took her hand, shaking it firmly. When she let go, he shook his hand slightly, trying to keep the blood flowing. _The girl has a grip—probably also from her brothers._

"Now tell me about Potions class—what happened to Harry?"

He turned away from her, walking to the opposite wall, his hands behind his back. Over his shoulder, he said blandly, "Potter fell asleep in class about halfway through and Professor Snape woke him." As he reached the opposite wall, he turned sharply and casually leaned against the stone.

Ginny waited and when nothing else came, she frowned. "That's it? Then why do you think something funny happened?"

"I didn't notice when Potter fell asleep—"

She interrupted him, smiling and said sarcastically, "Actually working today?"

He growled, "Little girl…I know the last I looked at Pottehead before he nodded off, he wasn't tired at all."

"How can you tell if Harry is tired?"

"Please!" he scoffed, "I have made it my goal to harass him for 5 years—"

Ginny nodded, suddenly understanding, and finished his thought, "So you are an expert at reading his moods, his facial expressions, his body movements. It makes tormenting him so much easier when you can hit him when he is the most vulnerable."

He raised an eyebrow at her and asked suspiciously, "Are you _sure_ that old hat didn't mis-sort you?"

She ignored him and continued explaining, "It's the same way I tease Ron—read his body language and facial expressions to determine his mood and therefore his weakness." At his disbelieving face, she said simply, "It's a sibling thing—when you grow up with somebody you learn the best way to irritate them from an early age." Then she grinned maliciously.

Draco laughed lightly and nodded, "So you understand how I can tell you that I know Potter wasn't tired."

"He gave no indication that he might fall asleep?"

"No. The next I looked at him, he was out—his head resting on his chest. That was about two seconds before Professor Snape—ah—woke him up. Then Professor Snape yelled at him, Potter stuttered a few things, rubbed his head, points were deducted and Potter was told to stay after class." Draco stopped and looked expectantly at Ginny.

"Why do you think that this was anything but normal? Sounds like Harry nodded off and Snape was his usual pleasant self."

"I told you Potter was _not_ tired—he should _not_ have fallen asleep. Then there is the way he acted after he was awakened—he was in pain for the remainder of class, grimacing and constantly rubbing his head."

"So, he had a headache." Ginny shrugged.

Draco stalked toward her, scowling. "Potter never _just_ has a headache, little girl, of that I _am_ certain. Trouble has a way of finding Potter. A headache seems to indicate that trouble has arrived."

She looked at him blankly for a moment and then smiled brilliantly. "Malfoy, I am impressed. And stop calling me _little girl_," she gave him a glare before continuing thoughtfully. "Did he happen to be rubbing his scar?" 

He thought for a moment and then shook his head. "For a moment, yes, but not in particular, no. It seemed to be his temples that bothered him the most."

"Huh. That's different," Ginny muttered to herself, but Malfoy heard her and he nodded, agreeing with her. 

He took a few more steps toward her and said pointedly, "Now, little girl, what did you stop the Golden Trio from doing at dinner?" 

~@~

"Now, little girl, what did you stop the Golden Trio from doing at dinner?"

Ginny shook herself from her thoughts and blankly repeated his last word, "Dinner? Oh, yes, dinner. I stopped them from following Professor Lupin and Professor McGonagall."

"That's it?" Draco asked incredulously. "That is exactly what I said!"

She smirked, "Yes, you did. Now we are finished—" she started to leave but he put his hand on the wall, blocking her way.

"No, we are _not_ finished. Tell me _why_ you stopped them."

"Why? Why stop three students from wondering around in the dark, chasing a werewolf and half-giant? Maybe for their safety?" she said sarcastically.

"Yes, but _why_ did they listen to _you_? They don't even listen to teachers."

"I told them I had a bad feeling about them going outside tonight—that it is very dangerous."

"Dangerous, why? What are you trying to stop them from seeing?" 

She frowned, "Seeing? I wasn't stopping them from _seeing_ anything—I stopped them from being killed!"

At that, Malfoy just laughed. Seeing her frown, he answered her unasked question, "Don't you think you are being a little melodramatic. Killed? Ha!" Then he muttered to himself, "Hanging out with Potter too long no doubt." She simply looked away, scowling. _No one seemed to believe her_.

After a long pause, Malfoy asked, "How? How do you know that it is dangerous out there tonight?" 

She turned her head to look at him, still scowling, expecting to see his mocking face. Her scowl fell from her face the moment she saw that his face was anything but mocking. He was serious. _Why the change?_ Maybe he realized that she _was _talking about the possibility of Harry being killed, something that _did _seem to occur regularly, making the possible threat of being killed nothing to laugh at. _Oh, she had to answer the question._ How_ did_ she know?

She shook her head, "Just a feeling—a very _strong _feeling."

He removed his arm from the wall, crossing both over his chest, his eyes staring at her but not seeing her, deep in thought. Ginny tried to make a move to leave, but it drew him from his thoughts. He focused on her, staring hotly into her eyes, and his arm shot out again, this time closing around her upper arm. He jerked his arm back toward him sharply and Ginny, caught unawares, stumbled forward. His eyes remained locked with his as he brought his face closer to his and said darkly and succinctly, "I do not believe you."

"Don't believe me—believe _what_?"

"That you had a 'bad feeling.' I think that you are covering for them—trying to waylay me from following them by feeding me this lie."

She gaped at him and then practically screamed, "You think I'm lying?!?"

"Well, I had thought Gryffs were above lying, of course we've already established that you are more Slytherin than Gryff. But we have a deal—information for information. Even Slytherins honor their word when it is given."

Struggling slightly, she tried to shake off his hand as she explained, "They did not go outside. You can go check on them now—they are on the 7th floor." His eyes lit up recognition of the place where he had helped the DA to be caught. She nodded at him, "Yes, they are in the Room there. We can go up there…"

He scowled and loosed his grip. "And we will find Potter, Weasel and Granger there, no doubt?" She gave him a sharp nod. "How do you know they are there and not outside, going against your warning?"

"They gave their word and Gryffindors also honor their word." At his still skeptical gaze, she added, somewhat sheepishly, "And I scared the hell out of them—telling them that they would probably die if they followed the teachers. Which _is_ the truth, by the way." She pouted slightly and grumbled, "I am_ not _being melodramatic."

Another pause and then Draco asked slowly, "There is something out there tonight? Something dangerous?" She gave another curt nod. "Dangerous for whom?"

"Anyone student that goes out there," she said gravely. A slow, knowing smirk graced his face as Ginny said this. "What are you so smug about?" she asked warily.

He jerked her arm again, but instead of trying to move her, he merely extended her arm. His hand clamped firmly around her wand hand and he produced his wand in his free hand, trained on her. "We are going to go find out," and he started pulling her along with him as he began walking.

"Find out what? What are you talking about? Unhand me!" she screeched and tried to shake off his grip.

"No," he said crisply and tightened his grip. "We are going to go see what the teachers are so keen on keeping from the students, _especially_ if they don't want the Golden Trio to know."

"You're insane!" When she couldn't shake off his grip, she used it to her advantage, gripping his hand in return and leaned all her weight opposite his motion. This stopped any forward movement by Draco but he did not relinquish hold of her hand.

"No, I am thinking perfectly logically. You know that there is something out there, you said as much, and are trying to protect it. Did the teachers ask you to or did you overhear something and took it upon yourself to protect it?" Draco didn't try to move again, just kept his wand trained firmly on the Gryffindor. 

"Fine—don't believe me—but I am telling you the truth! There is nothing out there to know or possess only pain and death."

"It must be very important to warrant 5 teachers to go missing at a time when their absence will be noticed," Draco kept speaking as if she had said nothing.

"It is _Dangerous_!"

"Not if I bring you. You are running interference for someone, covering for them—they won't harm you."

Ginny was becoming more frantic, pulling her arm and, volume rising, vehemently declared, "I am _not _covering for _anybody_. Whatever is out there will hurt you _and_ me. I am not going out there—!"

Draco interrupted her by taking two large steps to close the distance between them, pushing the point of his wand up into her jaw, and growled dangerously, "Yes you _are_ if I have to bind and levitate you the entire way—" 

She raised her voice over his and finished her thought, "Neither are you!!!" Angrily, she gripped his wand hand, twisting it and banging it against her knee. Her other hand simultaneously tightened and twisted, loosening his grip. Increasing her grip with both hands, she forced him to drop his wand and then, moving lightening quick, she used the heal of her left hand to smash up into his face, kicking his chest to move him away from her as she pulled her right hand free. She knocked him clear across the hall and, with a crack he hit the wall with force and with a dull thud, fell to the ground. He didn't move.

"Well, great, now I killed the ferret."

Ginny silently wondered what was really going on outside. A cold wave of fear and foreboding went through her at the thought of going outside. She was curious, but not enough to go outside. 

+++

**Time:**           ~18:00 GMT 

**Location:**     Edge of the Forbidden Forest, _Hogwarts__School__ of Witchcraft and Wizardry _

                     Scotland UK

~@~@~@~

Uncle was telling the magic people how to search for Drusilla, what to do and, mainly, what not to do. Connor was bored; he knew all of this, why couldn't they just start. The sooner they started, the sooner they could leave. He started wandering, taking in the surroundings and the forest.

"Little brother."

Connor cocked his head to the side. _Did he just hear something?_

"Little brother—come and play with Grand-mummy."

_Yes, he had heard something._ Connor started walking to the voice that was coming from the edge of the forest.

"Little brother—come and play—just for fun—you won't stay."

_Little brother?_ He was no one's little brother, his parents were both vampires. Unless a vampire Childe of a parent thought of him as a brother. Drusilla was his father's Childe. _Maybe…_ "Hello? Drusilla?"

"Yes—Grand-mummy is here—do not worry—I will harm no one. Tell Daddy and Uncle to some and play too."

So it was Drusilla._ Why was she calling him her little brother and calling herself his grandmother?_ Connor reached the edge of the forest and, looking in, found her immediately. She was sitting on a fallen log, swinging her feet and playing with her skirt. She looked up, straight at him and smiled.

"So pretty—you look like her, your eyes. I miss her." _Ah, his mother, Darla._ _Drusilla had turned his mother, so she was, in a way, also his grandmother._ She tilted her head back to look at the stars. "I'm so glad that you are here—I have been waiting for ever so long. Where is Daddy?"

He furrowed his brow, thinking, _Daddy referred to his father also: Angel_, but figured it couldn't hurt to tell her. "Back that way," he said, pointing toward the way he came from.

"Well go get them—I promise I won't move."

He looked doubtfully at her and she laughed.

"Just yell—they will come and you can stay right here."

_Hell, why not?_ He turned half away, keeping one eye on Drusilla, and yelled loudly, "Uncle! Father! She's over here!" He saw a slight movement and swung around, smoothly pulling out his axe, to find Drusilla still serenely staring at him, now standing only a few feet away. She seemed to be moving with the wind, swaying back and forth, humming softly and swinging something with her hand.

"What do you have in your hand?"

Dru stopped humming, frowned, and looked down at her hand. She smiled and brought her eyes back up, holding out her hand to show him, "A basket." Then she went back to humming and swinging the basket. "Such a pretty axe you have. Oh, here they come."

Connor also heard the echoes of the footfalls. He hadn't thought he had wandered _that_ far away from the others, but he hadn't been paying attention to where he was going, only following her voice. _How far had he gone?_ He was pulled out of his thoughts by the vampire in front if him asking a surprising question.

"Why are you unhappy to be here Destroyer?"

"Why—? Because the magic people think they are better than anyone else—especially Demons!" he spat out. "They didn't want our help; I don't see why we had to come. I wanted to let you eat anyone you wanted."

She grinned at that, "How sweet."

Then he added, grumbling angrily, "And they are upsetting Uncle."

"Ah, yes, I understand that—he does not like this world." Her smile faltered slightly as she added, "Neither do I, but we no longer have a choice." Her face lost all its mirth as her voice turned serious, "A great war is coming and if we do not choose a side, it will trample us." 

_Well, that doesn't sound good._

She was now looking slightly over his shoulder, watching the approaching figures that Connor could hear and, with two—no—three, he could feel as supernatural. _Three—interesting, and the third wasn't another vampire._ As much as he wanted to turn to watch them, he couldn't turn his back on Drusilla, no matter how courteous she had been so far. 

"Hello Mr. Magic man—did you hear me?"

"Yes, I did, but I don't quite understand." It was the headmaster of the damned magic school.

Dru growled out at the headmaster, "No? Or do you not want to understand?" 

Connor raised his eyebrows at that—_she thought the headmaster knew about this war she spoke of and he was not saying anything?_

Drusilla moved her eyes to the side and smiled, "Daddy—you came." She giggled and turned in a circle, stopping with a frown, "Where is my William?"

Connor also frowned; he knew Uncle was there, maybe she just couldn't see him.

"I'm 'ere Dru, my mobility is limited," came Spike's voice from Connor's left side.

Drusilla's eyes also moved to that side of Connor and smiled, but it seemed somewhat sad. Connor wondered why. Uncle stiffly walked up behind Connor and settled directly to the boy's left, leaning heavily to the right on his brace.

"William, I was just talking to Little Brother. He is worried about you."

"Really now?" Spike glanced sideways at Connor and Connor simply shrugged his shoulders slightly. Spike chuckled and turned back to Dru, "What else were you talking to Con about Dru?"

"Con?" She frowned and then smiled, understanding, when Spike motioned to Connor. "The Destroyer. His eyes are the same as his mum's. I miss her." Her smile faded and she became worried. "But She is not happy right now; the magic men want to kill all her family. My sweet William, if we do not stop them, they will trample us."

Spike seemed to absently absorb the comment and then moved on to a more serious question, "Drusilla, have you met anyone in the forest?"

"Before you?" Drusilla asked. Connor nodded. "The big spiders—they were nice," she said airily. Connor frowned at her. "No? Then I don't know."

"Dru," Spike said slowly, stressing her name and making sure she turned to him, her entire attention on Spike. "Have you seen a man with long black hair and all black clothing? We are looking for him."

She smiled. "Him—yes, of course I saw him—a very angry young man but so self-contained—so much like my dear William—I just had to stop and talk to him. He likes to scowl a lot, just like Daddy is right now. But, dear heart, what is a Gryffin-door?"

"Something to do with the school," Spike said offhandedly. She scowled at that, but Spike continued, "Dru, where is the scowling man?"

Drusilla said certainly, nodding, "He is safe. Now My Snake will be safe, yes." She looked down at her hand that she was swinging and stilled it. She looked back at Connor as she handed the basket in her stilled hand to him, "He has no need of this anymore. Little Brother—give it to the Magic Man."

Connor took the basket and looked inside it; it was filled with plants and other things from the forest. Uncle leaned over to look at the basket and he frowned. Connor lifted an eyebrow in question at Uncle and got an affirmative response. Connor turned and handed the basket to the headmaster, asking, "Did you hear what she said?"

The headmaster nodded, his face drawn and pale, and then said hollowly, "Minerva."

The nervous woman from earlier came forward. "What? What is it?"

"The basket Severus uses to collect his potion ingredients."

"He—he could have used another—" she stopped suddenly.

Connor was carefully watching Uncle, who was staring gravely at the basket, and Drusilla, who was instead watching the nervous woman, her head tilted slightly to the side as she watched, and probably thought on, the woman.

The Headmaster asked her, "Minerva, was this in his hands when he left for the forest?" She nodded miserably.

"He had this in the vision I saw, in the forest," Uncle added softly.

"Is it full?" she asked hesitantly.

"Yes."

"He—he would never, not willingly—full, potion—Ohhh!" The witch clasped her hands over her mouth, shaking her head, and her knees gave out. Angel caught her, kneeling next to her with his arm around her.

Drusilla was still carefully watching her, even as she fell, and cocked her head farther to the side. "Why is she so upset?" she asked Connor quietly.

Connor responded with his own question, "Drusilla, why do you have that basket? Did the man leave it or forget it?"

"He said he was done, had no more to pick. My Snake said to give it to the Magic man—that the Magic man would be worried about him. He did not say the Cat-woman would be upset." Drusilla seemed genuinely confused on why they were upset. 

She turned to Spike, asking perplexed, "William, why is the Cat-woman upset? He said the Magic man would be worried, but not that the Cat-woman would be upset."

"Dru, Minerva is upset because she believes you killed their Potions Master."

"Did I?"  
  


"The Potions Master is the dark haired man we asked you about."

"Oh," she said and then paused. "Then I did. Why is she upset?"

Connor just stared at Drusilla, horrified. _She had seemed coherent, polite and even nice_; it had almost made Connor forget that she was a cold-blooded killer. _Almost._

Angel started to growl, but stopped when it only made the nervous woman even more nervous. Spike didn't stop; his eyes changed to yellow as he growled loudly into Drusilla's face, "Damn it Dru—did you have to kill him?!!?"

Drusilla didn't seem perturbed at all by Spike's ire and nodded, calmly saying, "Yes, I did—the stars told me I had to kill him, My Snake, or else he would die."

Her calm attitude irked Connor, wanting her to have some emotion after so casually taking a man's life. Angrily, he spat, "Drusilla, that makes no sense—killing him to keep him from dying?!" 

Angel laughed hollowly at this, still holding the teacher who had been joined by another person on her other side, and said sadly, "Dru listens to the stars—does _that_ make sense?" Angel continued grimly, "Why would you expect that _anything_ she does would make sense?"

+++

To the lovely reviewers:

**Radia****:** I agree, Spike wouldn't share about his pre-vamp days normally, but getting his soul and being insane for long lengths of time probably loosened his tongue. I could see Buffy using this opportunity to learn more about Spike, pump him for information and him telling her. Also, we don't know what they talked about those last few days. The thing is Spike trusted Buffy when no one else did and I can see him proving it to her by telling her about his human life.

**Lady Lestrange: **Catheryn – a Slytherin? Hmmm, maybe. But the thing with her name is her being a stuffy Watcher, just like both Giles and Wesley used to be. Xander is fond of calling Giles: G-Man just to irritate him because he knows how the watcher reacts to nick-names.

**Usakura****: **Well, here's Spike. 

**Benjis**** VIP: **Glad you are enjoying this. I hope you like this chapter. *cackles*

**Eloe****: **Glad you like it. :)

**Silverfox1**: "No Draco killing? ... No Sevi killing?" errrr, well, that is to say…stay tuned.

**Trillium: **Here are Draco and Sevi. I know, Ron was fun, but I like writing Gin even better. Tell me what you think of her.

**Astria**: Unique – I always love hearing that. Hope you enjoyed this chapter too.

**angelsou****: **I totally intend to finish. I don't think my Beta would let me do otherwise.

And be sure to read: "The Seers' Truth" Books by **Lady LeStrange**

_A Harry Potter fifth-year epic mystery of prophecies, visions and dreams._

_The prediction and Old Magic hold the key, but will they figure it out in time?_

Book 1: "The Seers' Truth: A Broken Beginning"

ff.net  **storyid****=1130559**

Book 2: "The Seers' Truth: Beyond the Darkness"

ff.net  **storyid****=1650585**

++


	7. Ch 6: From a Certain Point of View

**Worlds Wrought & Ruined**

**_Chapter 6: From a certain point of view_**

**Spoilers:** _Buffy_ Season 7; _Angel_ Season 4; _Harry Potter_, Books 1 thru 5

**Disclaimer: **Buffy the Vampire Slayer and all associated characters, settings, etc., belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, UPN, etc. Harry Potter and all associated characters, setting, props, etc., belong to J.K. Rowling, Scholastic Inc., etc. No copyright infringement is intended.

Thanks to my brilliant Beta **Lady Lestrange**. Lady L _Rocks! _

More thanks to my fellows at **The_Seers_Truth** group for reading.

And **Benjis**** VIP, miz,** **a reader, Jedi Buttercup, Trillium, SygirlVALOR**, **xmag****, Usakura**, **WITCH WERE,** & **eth **– thanks for all reviewing – it is definitely _sisshauss__*_. Responses to reviews are at the end.

* _This word is from Lady L's epic "The Seers' Truth" ~ I highly suggest it as great reading._

++

_from_**_ Chapter 5..._**

++

"Dru, Minerva is upset because she believes you killed their Potions Master."

"Did I?"  
  


"The Potions Master is the dark haired man we asked you about."

"Oh," she said and then paused. "Then I did. Why is she upset?"

Connor just stared at Drusilla, horrified. _She had seemed coherent, polite and even nice_; it had almost made Connor forget that she was a cold-blooded killer. _Almost._

Angel started to growl, but stopped when it only made the nervous woman even more nervous. Spike didn't stop; his eyes changed to yellow as he growled loudly into Drusilla's face, "Damn it Dru—did you have to kill him?!!?"

Drusilla didn't seem perturbed at all by Spike's ire and nodded, calmly saying, "Yes, I did—the stars told me I had to kill him, My Snake, or else he would die."

Her calm attitude irked Connor, wanting her to have some emotion after so casually taking a man's life. Angrily, he spat, "Drusilla, that makes no sense—killing him to keep him from dying?!" 

Angel laughed hollowly at this, still holding the teacher who had been joined by another person on her other side, and said sadly, "Dru listens to the stars—does _that_ make sense?" Angel continued grimly, "Why would you expect that _anything_ she does would make sense?"

_Continued in..._

+++

**Chapter 6**

**_From a Certain Point of View_**

+++

**Time:**           Immediately following 

**Location:**     Edge of the Forbidden Forest, _Hogwarts__School__ of Witchcraft and Wizardry _

                     Scotland UK

~@~@~@~

Spike thought on Drusilla's comment, about the stars telling her to do it. _'Listening to the Stars'_ was Dru's way of saying she had had a vision. Visions similar to what he regularly had now. 

"Sometimes it _does_ make sense to listen to the stars," he murmured to himself and Drusilla nodded in agreement, evidently hearing him. Spike raised his voice and asked seriously, "They _are_ talking to you, aren't they Dru?" She nodded again.

Connor looked to Spike, confused and angry, "What are you going on about talking stars? We should be taking care of the vampire!" He made to advance on Drusilla, but was stopped by a brace held against his legs. He looked questioningly at Spike, who was balancing precariously on his good leg, and asked, "Uncle, wha—?"

"Connor, be quiet! When Dru talks about the stars talking to her or telling her what to do, it usually means she has had a vision. What I want to know is what the stars are saying. A little patience, alright?" he asked, looking into the young mans eyes. Once Connor nodded, Spike lowered his brace.

Then Spike turned his eyes back to Drusilla, her eyes calmly staring back at him. "Dru, what are the stars saying?"

Her face tightened and a small frown appeared as she said seriously, "A great war is coming—if we do not choose sides, it will trample us."

Spike cocked his head to the side, the word 'trample' connecting with something she had said before. What had she said—_the magic men wanted to kill all of Darla's family and if we didn't stop them, they would trample us._ Family to Drusilla always meant their bloodline, her Grand-mummy, her Daddy, her Little Brother, her Sweet William, her Snake—wait—she had said _Her Snake_. _Oh dear lord._

"Dru, the ones that will trample us, are they the same magic men that want to kill all of Darla's family?" Her eyes lit up. _That's a yes._

"Yes, the same—they will trample us. Only now, we have no choice. Our side has been chosen for us—now we must join or be trampled," she said very seriously.

"Our side has been chosen—how?" Spike persisted.

"What side?" Angel asked suspiciously.

"Join who?" Connor also queried.

Spike absently noticed that the witches and wizards remained silent. _As if they knew exactly what Drusilla was talking about._ He scowled at that thought.

She ignored all three of them, starting to sway with the wind, raising her face to the night sky, eyes closed serenely.

"Bloody great," Spike mumbled in irritation of being ignored and then tried another tact. "What else did the stars say Dru?"

She started humming, seeming to not hear him. Spike ran a hand over his face, frustrated. His headache was coming back full force. He was about to turn away when Dru spoke, eyes still closed.

"That the war has spilled into other things—_our world!_ It cannot be undone. A new world has been wrought – we have no choice but to walk in it or be trampled."

Alarmed, Spike yelled, "War—_what_ war?!"

"Walk in it? That doesn't mean we have to stay, does it?" Connor put forth plaintively. Spike groaned at the thought. He did not want to spend any more time here than necessary, especially with the prospect of an unknown war, but he had a feeling that Connor may be right.

Minerva, while the LA group asked questions, wrestled out of Lupin's arm and stalked up to the insane vampire, getting in Drusilla's face. The vampire opened her eyes and looked at the irate teacher. Angrily Minerva spat, "So you kill one of our kind, one of our best allies, in revenge for someone, definitely _not_ us, pulling you into our world?!"

Drusilla, ignoring the irate witch in her face, took a step back and calmly said, "No, not for revenge, for hope. He had to die to live—to survive what is coming."

Minerva scowled, one that would have made Severus proud, at the vampire and crossed her arms over her chest, intending not to move until she received an answer that made some semblance of sense.

"What is coming?" Dumbledore asked calmly.

Before Drusilla has a chance to answer the Headmaster's question, Lupin stepped forward. "Enough riddles, where is Severus' body Vampire?" The werewolf said loudly, fluidly drawing and aiming his wand at her.

Drusilla stared blankly at Lupin, ignoring his wand. "Severus?" she asked perplexed, her head tilting in question. Spike answered her.

"Your Snake Dru."

"Oh, My Snake," she responded in realization. She then fixed her gaze sternly on Lupin's face, lightly batting his wand away, and stated in a firm voice that brooked no arguments, "I will not tell you." She stubbornly continued, "He needs to sleep."

"Drusilla—" Angel started alarmingly, but Spike waved him away. Angel glared at him and he merely shrugged.

"What done is done and cannot be undone. Who knows, maybe Dru is right and it is for the best," he said resignedly.

Remus whirled on the Seer, his voice low as he tried to reign in his animalistic rage at being ignored, but a growl escaped as he said tersely, "For the _Best_—Severus being dead is for the best?!" He turned back toward to Drusilla, his rage unabated, and demanded, "The body—"

"I wouldn't—" Spike tried to stop him, but he kept going.

"Where—Is—It?" Remus growled.

She scowled, her face shifting, and she growled back, "You will not disturb my new Childe—he is grumpy enough without being prematurely wakened. He must adjust without your interference."

@~@~@

Minerva took a few steps back, almost colliding with Albus. _The vampire couldn't mean what it sounded like. No, he couldn't be one. Why would she?_ "What is she saying?" Minerva asked faintly.

"That your Potions Master is not dead – well, not permanently. She turned him," The Seer said, shaking his head in frustration. "He's a vampire now—or he will be, when he wakes."

Minerva was shaking, bordering on hysteria, and her voice still faint, but starting to gain volume as she spoke. "But that's just as bad as being dead—you made him a _killer_, something he hates being more than anything else!" Severus had been a Death Eater, _a killer_, and he had hated himself for it. He _still_ hated himself for it and it took all the reassurance and affection from her and Albus just to keep him convinced that waking up the next morning is a good idea. She didn't know what she would do now. He was once again the thing he loathed most, a _killer_, and she didn't know if she had the strength to be with him in such a state. A few tears fell down her face in utter frustration. _Severus__ is a good man and his soul had been through so much already. He had earned his redemption and for it to be taken away so unfairly, so arbitrarily seemed unthinkable, yet it had happened._

Dumbledore stepped beside Minerva, putting his arm gently around her shoulders. "Minerva is correct, Severus would never want…but…" He trailed off uncertainly, but Minerva knew the direction his thoughts were following and, although it broke her heart, she agreed. _Yes, Severus would hate being a killer, but without him they had no way to penetrate Voldemort's inner circle. Without him, they were going into the war blind._ They needed their spy—_no matter what._

Drusilla was once again staring intently at Minerva. She raised a hand as if to touch the witch's face but then dropped it and took a small step back. "Cat-woman, do not cry for My Snake—he is not what you fear." She took another step back and grimaced as if something horrible tasting was in her mouth and spat out, "He is not like me."

The witch and wizard both jerked their heads up at her last statement. Her comment also garnered the attention of the DADA teacher. He asked hopefully, "You mean that he isn't a vampire?"

Drusilla shook her head negatively, "No, he _is_ my Childe, but," she paused and looked straight at Spike, "he still has his _spark_."

"What do you mean by that Drusilla?" Angel asked.

Simultaneously, Spike drew in a sharp breath, managing to choke out, "His Spark?"

"Yessss," Drusilla hissed angrily as she swayed, "his spark still burns in his chest. It did not leave as it should. It is tied to his body." While saying this, she brushed her right hand over her left forearm. "Pretty marks, like Daddy, but not on the shoulder—on his arm."

It was Albus' turn to be surprised, simply stating, "His Dark Mark."

"The Dark Mark—Severus' spark—_what?_" Remus asked, thoroughly confused and still extremely frustrated.

Connor stubbornly crossed his arms over his chest and growled in frustration, "What is a 'Dark Mark' and how do we kill it?" Then he cocked his head to the side and said, almost as an afterthought, "This _spark_, when is it supposed to the leave the body and why?"

Spike was still staring into Drusilla's eyes, seeing what she had said and what was left unsaid. He answered Connor's question without taking his eyes from the vampire's gaze, "She means his soul—that he still has his soul—a soul that should have left his body the moment he became a vampire—when he died." His brow creased in thought, trying to understand how the Potion Master's soul had not left his body upon death. He sighed and asked simply, "But how?"

The witches and wizards murmured in the background, completely lost.

"His soul?" Minerva said weakly to herself, her angering swiftly draining from her body. _His soul—he still has his soul. But, if he did retain his soul, would he still be a killer?_ She could hope. _But would it really be a good thing if it had anything to do with his Dark Mark? Nothing good has ever come from that accursed mark._

@~@~@

Angel asked Drusilla directly, "Is Spike right—the spark is his soul? And what about the marks on his arm—a tattoo?"

The werewolf asked the Headmaster, "How is Severus' Dark Mark related to his soul?" Albus, instead of answering, put a finger to his lips and pointed to the vampire who had killed his colleague and friend. Remus growled, but otherwise remained silent, trying to pick some semblance of meaning from the vampire's twisted ramblings.

"My William always understands," Drusilla said, smiling at Spike. But after a moment, it turned into a frown of displeasure and continued unhappily, "Yes – his _soul_ still resides within, it is tied…" She trailed off, continuing to frown, and after a moment, Spike finished the thought for her. 

"To his body, yes you said that."

Drusilla affirmed Spike's statement, "Yes, his body." She paused and her eyes lost focus, glazing over sightlessly, before she continued, "Tied to his body _and_ to another." She snarled, "Nasty serpent – feeds on others and enslaves snakes to him. Red eyes trying to break into minds, minds like—" 

Minerva and Remus gasped silently, looking at each other and then turning, in unison, to Albus. His face showed no outward emotion, but his eyes had widened and his body tensed as he concentrated on the vampire's strange words.

Drusilla stopped and frowned in thought before looking at Spike, her eyes refocusing on him intently as she tilted her head to the side. She ran her fingertips lovingly down his cheek and said in awe, "One with a heart the size of which I have not met since my dear William—my Spike—so full of love."

Spike tried to follow the shift in conversation and asked, "Who? The man with red eyes?"

"Not him, he cannot love," stated Albus softly. His soft, but resolved voice brought everyone's eyes upon him.

"Then who is he—the one that cannot love?" Angel asked.

Albus sighed, a heavy weight seeming to settle on his shoulders as he answered, "The one with red eyes is Lord Voldemort – the Dark Lord."

Spike eyes darkened with anger and he heard his Grand-Sire's growl. _They had walked in blind to a threat, trying to help these people, and they had neglected to warn them of a very real danger._ Spike was about to explode at Dumbledore when Drusilla spoke first, looking at the Headmaster, but her eyes unfocused again and her voice deepened.

"He wants to trample us. But it is the heart of the other which will save us."

Dumbledore started, "This other—"

Albus was interrupted by Spike as he whispered sharply, "No, don't interrupt."

"Heart – _love_. He is full of love. So like my Spike – the same love and the same pain. His greatest strength is also his greatest weakness. Pain is love and love is pain. He has great pain." She lifted her face to the night sky. "He mourns the lost dog star. The howls of pain from the cub echo in the sky, in the stars. He will not release the pain and it is shattering his heart and soul. Family was lost. Now family is found. Remind him that love is never lost, just misplaced and sometimes scorned." She lowered her gaze from the sky to stare, unfocused, at Spike.

"My Sweet William, my Snake brought you here because that is what the stars sang. Why you are here to stay is to help the boy to release his pain. The boy—he is important, it is by his hand the other must die." Dru paused and Spike ventured a soft question.

"The other?"

"The red eyes trying to bore into My Snake's mind." She stopped and smiled smugly, "But now he is safe." Drusilla turned slightly to look directly at the Headmaster and her eyes focused on him and said very solemnly, "No one can break into his mind now. No one—the secret fire-bird is safe."

Minerva collected herself enough to ask a question—the question that she knew was on all her colleagues' minds. "_How_ do you know all this?"

Drusilla swayed her head toward her with a puzzled look on her face. "The stars told me," she said simply.

Minerva nodded, feeling that that was what she was expected to do, but still not understanding the vampire. The Seer chuckled slightly, gaining her attention. She frowned at him, pulling herself to her full height, and giving him the stern gaze she reserved for her most unruly students. The reaction she got was—unexpected—to say the least: he smirked at her. He had the audacity to _smirk _at _her_. "And what, young man, do you think is so funny?" she asked sternly.

Spike laughed. This seemed to only infuriate the teacher further. Spike turned to elbow Connor before he remembered the young man had never attended school and neither had his father. And Drusilla, by the simple fact that she is female, most likely had never attended this type of school and even if she had, she was in no condition to reminisce about it right now. So, he instead turned to his old schoolmate, grinning, and said, "Which house is she the head of Albus?"

It took a second for Albus to turn to him and another to register the situation before he too grinned. "How do you know Minerva is a Head of House?"

Spike snorted. "Because that look has been practiced and perfected to instill fear and respect for authority in any trouble maker. Any time that I actually listened to Aberforth, we got _that look_ when we were eventually caught. _Especially_ that goat fiasco." He shook his head at that thought. Albus chuckled, also remembering. 

Minerva _hurrumphed_, her scowl deepening and Spike narrowed his eyes, calculating. "Well, not Slytherin or Hufflepuff—that is a rule-breaking look and the worse Ravenclaw can do is not returning their library books on time. I answered my own question, didn't I?" He turned, grinning at frustrated Head of House and mock-bowed to her, saying, "Greetings loyal and brave Gryffindor. I should have recognized the look of censure, but it has been a long time since I received it from anyone—well," he paused and added with some mirth, "anyone without the surname Summers." 

He paused and when he spoke again, it was truly sincere and tired, "I am sorry for laughing, today has not been a good day, but I can imagine the same can be said for you." Minerva nodded slowly, her scowl slowly slipping. "What Drusilla means when she says 'the stars told her' is that she had a vision." The looks he received were incredulous. "Don't get me wrong, Dru _is_ insane, but she is also a true Seer: clairvoyant and precognitive. From the looks you were giving her, what she was saying is right on the mark."

"Yes William, it is," Albus said slowly. "It is just that what she is saying—it sounds very similar to a prophecy made fifteen years ago."

Connor decided to weigh in. "So? Doesn't that just means what she is saying is accurate?" 

Angel growled angrily under his breath, "Unlike some prophecies." Spike shot a curious glance at him but Angel just sadly shook his head. 

Dumbledore did not hear the utterance and continued, "Yes child, but that is the problem. No one but myself heard that prediction in its entirety all those years ago and it is very important that our enemies do not know."

"These _'enemies'_ that you are talking about—" Angel started, but Drusilla interrupted.

"They want to trample us: Half-breeds, Hybrids, _Abomination_. Wipe—Us—Out." She turned to Angel and Spike and spoke solemnly, "They learned their lesson on the Island: Do not underestimate the Abomination. They turned the tide before and may yet again."

Angel and Spike glanced at each other, slightly disturbed. They both started to speak at the same time.

"Please tell me—"

"You don't think—"

They turned back to Dru to get clarification, but her eyes had glazed over again, staring emptily at them. "Hell," Spike muttered. "Wonder what good news we are going to get next." Angel and Connor both snorted at this, stopping as soon as Drusilla began to speak again, her voice low.

**_"Eyes as red as blood_**

**_Heart as cold as stone_**

**_Exterminate all the Mud_**

**_Because a father's sins_**

**_Others' pain must try atone_**

****

**_Loyal swallow the dead_**

**_Faces as white as snow_**

**_Snakes the skulls are fed_**

**_Seek purity and follow_**

**_A Riddle that you know_**

****

**_The equal with his mark_**

**_In danger to fall the same_**

**_Pain of love lost stark_**

**_If in righteous anger_**

**_His heart he cannot tame_**

****

**_He was thrice defied_**

**_By the parents of the one_**

**_Born as July had died_**

**_Power to vanquish the Lord_**

**_In the heart of the son_**

****

**_At the hand of one_**

**_The other he must die_**

**_It is a contradiction_**

**_For neither can live_**

**_With the other is alive_**

****

**_Heart, Knowledge, Spirit _**

**_Create the killing hand_**

**_Together they will fit_**

**_The Equal and his friends_**

**_To win the final stand_**

****

**_Love will be his guide_**

**_Is his greatest strength_**

**_The lost family at his side_**

**_Knows love and loss true_**

**_And always go the length_**

****

**_In each generation_**

**_There is but one born_**

**_Until the red witch from_**

**_Mouth of hell now gone_**

**_Not one, now many sworn_**

****

**_To fight the coming dark_**

**_Old new are together_**

**_The Equal with the mark_**

**_His family's love will be_**

**_His soul's final tether_**

****

**_Halves must fight the wholes_**

**_Beside the many sworn_**

**_The One earned his soul_**

**_Died to save the many_**

**_For love he thought forlorn_**

****

**_Unselfish love of demon_**

**_For his Love he died_**

**_Mother's love for her son_**

**_Same sacrifice was made_**

**_And the loved one survived_**

****

**_Many and his loved one_**

**_The new guardian was dead_**

**_Friends of and marked son_**

**_Ancient power will destroy_**

**_One with eyes blood red…"_**

Drusilla trailed off, eyes still wide and unseeing. "My Snake is now safe." Then she frowned, "But the spark hurts and burns…" Her eyes started to focus as she spoke and then she turned to Minerva. "Do not worry Cat-woman, he will wake on the morrow. We will return this next night." 

Dru tilted her head, her face changing back to the human mask, and looked at her fixedly and said softly, "He will be happy that you were upset for him. He said that the Magic man would worry about him. He did not think that the Cat-woman would be upset or else he would have sent something for you also."

"Why should we trust you? You killed Severus—" Minerva was cut off by the vampire hissing angrily.

"He was in danger! Soon, the red-eyed man would have breeched his mind and spill all his nasty secrets. Is that what you wanted? My Snake, beaten and bleeding, tortured—"

"Please stop!" Minerva said shakily. She took a deep, shuddering breath, trying to calm her already frazzled nerves and then asked, "This, this would truly have happened?"

Drusilla smiled sadly, "The stars said so—yes. But not now." She rounded, twirling in a circle and giggling, and sang up to the stars, "Now my Snake is safe." After another moment of twirling, she stopped and leveled her gaze at the Headmaster. Her face sobered and her voice had a heavy tone of warning as she spoke, "But no one must know."

The Headmaster nodded in agreement and promised, "Yes, I understand."

Tonks peeked her head out from behind the Headmaster where she had been hiding, frowning, and asked, "Well I don't. What is it they must not know?"__

After a moment of her own confusion, Drusilla nodded in understanding, smiling at Tonks as she said, "Ahhhh, my apologies Miss…Police-woman. Sometimes the stars make my head feel all fuzzy-wuzzy and I forget that others cannot see as I do." The smile dropped from her face and she said completely without mirth, "They must not know that my Snake is now like my Daddy and me." She scowled and spat out, "Halfbreed! Abomination!" Then she growled in anger, causing Tonks to retreat once again behind the Headmaster.

"Like you?" Remus asked.

"A vampire," Angel answered for Drusilla.

She nodded in agreement, paused, and then abruptly changed topics. "Ah," jerking her head away from the witches and wizards to the sky, "time to go." Drusilla turned to Spike slowly, cocking her head to the side in thought. "The stars still sing—I hear them." She drifted slowly towards him and softly touched his temple, whispering, "They want to tell you also." The moment her hand touched him, Spike was roughly thrown into a vision.

***

The Vision hit immediately, the pain splitting his head open as he again saw Hogwarts. His vision from earlier that day repeated slower, allowing him to see more details, seeing the potion master in the forest, Drusilla draining him. Here, where the vision had stopped previously, it continued as he saw the feral eyes of a vampire. The eyes shifted to black as two figures left the forest, one male and one female. 

Then it flashed forward, focus to a tattoo: a black skull with a snake coming out of its mouth, and then the tattoo was covered by a sleeve falling over it, moving out to show the arm, tattoo and sleeve belonged to the new Childe. Then a flash of angry red eyes trying to bore into those black eyes of the Childe, only to hit a wall—the wall of a vampire's mind, then a hood was pulled up and a white mask covered the black-eyed face. He moved to join a circle of identically dressed men and the red eyes flashed again. 

Then the same man, the new Childe, removing the mask, facing Albus he said simply, "My mind safe—he cannot break in." Albus nodded, saying, "Good. Then you are safe." Then a sickening pulling on his mind and he is staring at the stars, lying on the ground.

***

His head was in someone's lap and then Connor's upside down face in his vision, looking worried. _Of course the kid would catch me._

"Uncle? Uncle?"

"Ya Con—I'm here."

"What did she do to you?"

He chuckled tiredly at that. "Nothin' bad. She simply delivered the rest of the vision I had earlier this morning. Is she still here?"

"She disappeared right after she touched your forehead. Do we need to look for her?"

"No. She will be with her Childe and it is very unwise to antagonize a Sire before the new Childe awakens. They will meet us tomorrow night as promised."

"How do you know this?" Albus asked from somewhere beyond his frame of sight.

"The vision I just had says so," Spike answered. 

After a moment of silence, Minerva voiced her thoughts quietly. 

"What then?"

+++

To the lovely reviewers:****

**Benjis**** VIP: **Dru's logic makes perfect sense ~ to her at least. And she did have a perfectly good reason for doing what she did, as you can see.

**miz****: **Yes, Severus is dead. Does Buffy know? No. Buffy and co. left Angel before Spike showed up. And there _might_ have been a falling out between the Fang Gang and the Scooby Gang, you know, with one group working for an evil law firm and all. Draco/Ginny ~ hmmmm…I am a great fan of the S.S. Fire & Ice, if that answers your question.

**a**** reader: **Yes, Harry will become more involved with the action soon. After all, the one thing that the Trio is great at is uncovering what the adults are trying to hide from them.But not just yet, they are still trying to figure out what the dream meant and why it is important.

**Jedi Buttercup: **LOL ~ Yes, the rumors are now true about Severus. I laughed so hard when I read your review. Now, do you know where my title for this chapter came from and what I am referring to? I bet you do...

**Trillium: **Well, Snape isn't _killed_ killed, so everything is good.And having Spike related to Harry instead of Draco, I couldn't just do what everyone else does. Besides, when he was alive, Spike was nothing like he is now. That happens with Vampires quite a bit ~ they see being turned as freedom from being the person that they were and start a new life. Angel was a drunken womanizer who hated listening to his father and behaving alive. Once turned, he became sophisticated. It is one of the reasons that Spike and Angel irritate one another so much ~ Angel trying to follow all of society's rules when Spike wants to break every one of them. Anyway, **echo** is the only author I have seen do a good job of having Spike as a Malfoy and still stay canon to William being shy and a "Bloody Awful Poet" ~ she made him the family Squib. So, thanks for the compliment.****

**SygirlVALOR: **Please feel free to link to this story. 

**xmag****: **Dawn and Catheryn, we will come back to them later. Ginny is pretty strong and Draco, dead? His head is too hard for a bump to kill him.

**Usakura****: **Well, you aren't loosing your favorite character, he is just...different. 

**WITCH WERE****: **I'm glad that you enjoy my crossover so much. I know I definitely got Angel, Spike and Connor to Hogwarts in an unconventional manner, but hey, what can I say? I like being different. 

**eth****: **Fascinating? Great word ~ Thanks.

_~seeya_

++


	8. Ch 7: Aiding those in Need

**Worlds Wrought & Ruined**

**_Chapter 7: Aiding those in Need_**

**Spoilers:** _Buffy_ Season 7; _Angel_ Season 4; _Harry Potter_, Books 1 thru 5

**Disclaimer: **Buffy the Vampire Slayer and all associated characters, settings, etc., belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, UPN, etc. Harry Potter and all associated characters, setting, props, etc., belong to J.K. Rowling, Scholastic Inc., etc. No copyright infringement is intended.

Thanks to my brilliant Beta **Lady Lestrange **aka_Voldie__, the tablecloth cape wearing man_1_._ Lady L _Rocks! _

More thanks to my fellows at **TheSeersTruth** group for reading.

And **Silverfox1, Usakura, Benjis VIP, miz,** **Golden-Vampyre-Goddess, xmag, eth, Hieiko, Fairy, Astria, storm079,** & **jenny** – thanks for all reviewing – it is definitely _sisshauss_2. Responses to reviews are at the end.

1 _From our Harry Potter role-playing group **HarryPotterRP**. We need more players, Lucius, Ron & more, so if you want to join in, come to our Yahoo! Group._

2 _This word is from Lady L's epic "The Seers' Truth" I highly suggest it as great reading._

===

**Chapter 7**

**_Aiding those in Need_**

===

**Time:**           19:00 GMT

**Location:**     Edge of the Forbidden Forest, _Hogwarts__School__ of Witchcraft and Wizardry _

                     Scotland UK

===

"Spike, what else did you see in your vision?" Angel asked, ignoring the witch's question.

"Oh, you know, the usual. Deep, dark forest. Things that go bump in the night. A circle of masked men worshiping a red-eyed demonic being," he chuckled. "But hey, at least the masked men are just that: men and not more demons." He rubbed his head and moaned, "Why me?"

Connor laughed at his Uncle's lament and Angel even smiled. Connor patted Spike's shoulder reassuringly and answered, "Why you Uncle? You are a Champion for the Powers That Be."

"Don't remind me," Spike grumbled and both Connor and Angel's smiles got bigger. Spike pointed at the smiling vampire and violently protested, "Hey—I did _Not_ ask for this complication _or_ irritation! Whatever Being that decided to make _me_ a champion was off their bloody rocker."

Angel coughed, trying to cover his laughter, before he cleared his throat and answered, "Actually, Spike, you technically did ask for this." Spike's perplexed look just made Angel's grin bigger as he crouched down next to his son and the Seer. "You _did_ ask for your soul."

"So? You have one," Spike answered grumpily.

"I was cursed with mine and they still made me a Champion. When a demon comes along and actually _asks_ for his soul back, of course they are going to make you a Champion too."

Spike growled at him. "Stop finding this so amusing! And you know I was talking about asking for the visions, not that Champion business. I'll leave that to you and the kid."

Angel just nodded and stood, his face becoming serious. "So what else did you see in your vision?"

Spike put his arm across his face and sighed. "Did you not hear me?"

"Yes, but I don't believe that the wizards did."

Spike uncovered his eyes and tilted his head to look for the Headmaster. "Albus?" A moment and then Dumbledore came into his sight.

"Yes William?"

"There is more to the vision and since I saw you in it, you probably want to hear about it." Dumbledore chuckled and nodded. "Well, like I said earlier," here he glared at Angel, "I saw a circle of masked men: black cloaks and white masks, surrounding a red-eyed demon—"

"That's not a demon."

"He sure looked like one," Spike said doubtfully.

Connor asked, "If it isn't a demon, what is it?"

"A wizard," Dumbledore said sadly.

Spike stared at him for a moment; face screwed up in confusion, and then smoothed out in understanding. "_That's_ your Dark Lord?" Dumbledore nodded. "And the Potion Master, he has black eyes, right?"

Minerva answered perplexed, "Yes. Why?"

"Bloody hell!" Spike muttered and then turned to Angel. "That's why Dru turned him." Angel raised his eyebrows in question, so Spike continued, "Dru's new childe is a follower of red-eyed bloke and a spy for Albus here. Seems the demon is a Legilimens and a bloody good one too."

"How—" Minerva gasped.

Without turning, Spike answered her. "It was in my vision. Those followers have a tattoo on their arm—their left forearm where Dru was holding her arm—right? A skull and snake—"

"Ye-yes, that's correct," Minerva got out, cutting off the Seer before he said anything more incriminating.

"A Legili-a-what?" Connor asked.

"Mind-reading kid."

Connor absorbed this answer, thought for another moment, and then asked, still confused, "Why does that have anything to do with Drusilla turning him?"

"I was also wondering about that," Albus put in.

"Uhhh—" Spike absently rubbed his leg near the brace as he thought about what to say. "Well, it's like this, as far as I can tell: to be able to break into someone's mind, you have to know how to get pass the mind's defenses. And to understand someone else's defenses, you have to know and understand your own mind's defenses. In other words, you have to know how to protect your own mind to be able to break into someone else's, right Albus?"

"That is correct William, but what—" Albus trailed off as Spike sported a Severus-like glare directed at the Headmaster.

"I'm sure everyone here knows that some vampires can thrall their victims. Well, thrall is, simply put, is a vampire breaking into the victim's mind, like a Legilimens does, and then planting an image or a command or even taking control in some instances. A vampire's ability to thrall depends on the person's natural gifts, the greater the gift, the stronger the potential thrall is. However, to use the gift the way a vampire does, to take over so completely, the controlling mind must be impenetrable." Spike stopped to take a breath, still unused to constantly needing to breath.

Dumbledore verbally followed Spike's reasoning to its logical conclusion when Spike paused. "Then, so that the vampires with the gift have the proper strength of mind to use their gift to the fullest – to thrall – _all_ vampires have that strength of mind: impenetrable. Intriguing," Albus finished with the famous, but irritating, twinkle in his eye.

Everyone seemed to just stare at the Headmaster, except Spike, blankly. Tonks was the first to rouse herself from the stupor and expressed everyone's confusion in one eloquent word: "Huh?"

Albus chuckled at the young Auror's expression and even Spike smiled at the utterly confounded look Connor was giving to him. "I know, its complicated kid," Spike told Connor. "Let's see if I can explain it using an example." Spike paused, looking around to see if anything inspired him to an analogy everyone could explain. The Headmaster looked down at the Seer, also frowning in thought. Spike returned Dumbledore's gaze and smiled almost immediately.

"I think I have it. Thrall is an ability to do something, right?" Connor nodded along with everyone else, so Spike continued, "But to use the ability, a vampire has to have a mind unable to be broken into." When no one made a move, Spike sighed and said exasperatedly, "Trust me on this, to use the thrall ability, the mind must be iron strong." Connor nodded slowly, a skeptical look still on his face.

Spike drew in a long breath before continuing, "Another ability that people have is the ability to see. No, don't interrupt, just hear me out," Spike said as Tonks opened her mouth. "Not everyone can see, some people are blind, or, like Albus and me, have a limited ability to see. Glasses help us to see better, but it doesn't change the fact that that our natural ability is less than others.

"So that makes three kinds of humans: ones with perfect vision, ones with imperfect vision and ones with no vision – varying degrees of ability to see. But we can only use this ability if we have **eyes** to see with. People with no ability to see still, normally at least, have eyes even though they have no way to use them. No ability to use them.

"We all have eyes, even though some have no ability to use them, so that those _with _the ability to use them _can_. So in the same way, all vampires have an impenetrable mind even though only some have the ability to use it."

Everyone seemed less confused with the explanation, except for Angel. "What is it Peaches? Didn't like my example?"

"Don't call me that Spike," Angel admonished automatically as he shook his head negatively. "You example was fine. It's just—" Angel paused and met Spike's gaze. Spike was shocked; Angel still no longer looked confused, but troubled and worried. Spike frowned as Angel continued slowly, "Does a soul make a difference?"

Spike's frown deepened. "No, it shouldn't—why?"

Angel looked even more worried at Spike's response but answered him. "The First—" Spike groaned in understanding, causing Angel to cut off abruptly and glare at the Seer. "What?" Angel snapped out.

Spike tried to smile, but it came out as more of a grimace; he was _so_ tired. "Having a mind that is impossible to break into doesn't mean that the mind is impossible to break." Spike managed to get out a small sad smile. "Isn't Drusilla still as insane as she was before she was turned?" Spike asked Angel.

Angel flinched at the reminder that he, as Angelus, had driven Drusilla insane before making her a vampire. "Yes. I think the 150 years as a vampire has made her even more insane truthfully." He sighed sadly; _and it was his entire fault too._

"The First messed with our minds, driving me insane and then brainwashing me, and simply driving you insane, trying to work you into a murderous rage or suicidal grief. The First never broke into our minds, it could read our memories, but had no way to change them or control our actions. That's why it drove me insane first, so that it could program me to do what it wished. But it is an excellent point," Spike conceded to Angel and then turned his head towards Dumbledore, addressing the next statement to both of them. "A soul with the demon tends to make a vampire a little mentally unstable."

Angel scoffed, "A little?"

Spike scowled at him, but reluctantly agreed, "Okay, not a little then, a lot. Bugger, how are we going to keep him from going insane?"

"We'll think of something when he wakes and we get a chance to talk to him," Angel said, just as unhappy as Spike at the prospect of trying to keep the newly turned vampire with his soul from going over the deep end. Angel and Spike both went insane after being ensouled.

"Does that mean we are staying here?" Connor asked petulantly.

"It appears so young man," Albus said.

"At least until tomorrow Con," Spike said. "Help me stand kid." Connor lifted his Uncle's shoulders from his lap, hooking his arms under Spike's, and stood slowly.

Angel nodded his head. "Then we will retrieve Drusilla and her Childe and take them, as was agreed upon."

"Do we really have to?" Spike grumbled halfheartedly.

"Wait—you can't just _take_ Severus," Minerva objected.

"Yes, we can. He is—family, and we will not abandon him here. Also, Drusilla will not leave without her Childe and I will not leave her here. No matter how she may act, she is still a cold-blooded killer." Angel crossed his arms over his chest and then angrily added, "Also, I will not leave my family here, _alone_, where they are vulnerable."

Connor finished standing, Spike leaning heavily against him, his left arm around the Destroyer's shoulder. "My brace?" Spike asked, groggy from standing too soon after the vision, glancing at Connor. Remus bent down and retrieved the brace from where it had fallen when the Seer had collapsed.

"Here," he said as handed it to Spike.

"We _need _Severus!!" Minvera almost screamed.

"At least allow him the choice," Albus said diplomatically.

Connor looked at the wizards confused. "I thought you wanted us to take them and leave, that our _kind_ isn't welcome here," he snarled.

Albus bowed his head in agreement. "While that was true, it seems that we must reevaluate our beliefs. If I understand what Miss Drusilla said correctly, Severus being what he is now is the only thing that will allow his continued survival—and ours."

"I'm sure the he will be glad to know that he will be tolerated as long as he is useful to you," Spike said snidely, but he couldn't manage a sneer as he was still tired.

Minerva whirled on him, grabbing onto the Seer's shirt. "Tolerated? He will not just be tolerated, he will be Welcome! And if your think I am going to let you—" Albus stopped Minerva from continuing by putting a hand on her arm, gently removing her hand from the Seer.

Softly he said, "Minerva, please." She turned her eyes after a moment longer of staring at the Seer to the Headmaster and looked into Dumbledore's eyes. Dumbledore looked into her mind slightly and was overwhelmed with helplessness, sorrow, fear, frustration and desperation—all for their Potions Master. Albus was surprised; he had not thought that their feelings had gotten so deep. Evidently he had underestimated the strength of their emotions.

She crossed her arms firmly across her chest, making her displeasure clear. Albus thought that he had clamed her, but she would not be out off so easily. "I am willing to trust your judgment Albus, but I want to know one thing." At her pause, the Headmaster nodded at her to ask her question. "Why do you trust these people?"

"An excellent question Minerva," Albus answered as he rubbed his temple. "We really do need to move this inside. If I tell you a good enough reason to trust our visitors, will you work with me? I truly believe that they have Severus' best interests in mind."

The Seer growled and made a despairing remark under his breath. Albus whipped his head around and glared at him. "William tonight is neither the time nor the place."

"I know. Doesn't mean I have to be happy about it," Spike said petulantly, sounding very much like Dawn whining to her older sister. At that thought, Spike froze: he was _whining?_ He shook his head, he was a grown-up and they didn't whine like children, _unless they were Angel._ He turned to Minerva and, seeing her worried face, the frown melted from his face, saying earnestly, "No matter what, your Potions Master is now family and our responsibility and we all take both of those very seriously."

She acknowledged him, but was still waiting on an explanation. "Albus, what is your reason for trusting our guests?"

"Oh yes. Well, simply put, I went to school with the Seer here, William, and was also in the same house."

The Seer smirked at this, grinning broadly at the Head of Gryffindor. She scowled back at him and said, "You were a trouble maker, weren't you?" Albus laughed.

"Actually no, he was very similar to Miss Granger: studious, shy, brilliant and occasionally led astray by a trouble making friend. In William's case, it was Aberforth doing the leading."

Remus' eyes widened at that. "Really? A Dumbledore that was a trouble maker?"

Spike looked over at the werewolf and winked. "Oh, don't let Albus fool you, he was just as bad and he had Richard helping him. Add in Charles Weasley and those three became the Headmaster's biggest headache. Aberforth and I were just…an afterthought."

"Richard—you mean Richard Potter?" Minerva asked, slightly in awe.

The Seer frowned. "Ya, Potter," he said, slightly bewildered. He turned back to Albus. "So, we goin' inside or what?" Albus nodded and Spike took a step, wavered, and would have fallen if Connor had not caught him. Spike put a hand to his head, shaking it slightly, and mumbled, "Damned vision—took more out of me than I thought." He took one step supported by Connor and a second before crumpling.

"Shit! Uncle!" Connor called as he tried to catch the Seer as he lost consciousness. "Father," he called once he realized that the Seer was totally unconscious. By himself, Connor knew he was not big enough to carry Spike.

"What happened?" Albus asked.

As Angel crouched down to pick up his prostrate grand-childe, he explained, "Having visions like Spike does is extremely hard on the body. It will kill a human body in less than five years. Even on a half-demon like Spike, it is horribly exhausting." Connor moved the brace as Angel slipped his arms under the body. "Only a few hours of sleep, traveling magically when his body is unused to it and having two especially hard visions simply exhausted his body." Angel stood slowly and, after ascertaining he had his balance while holding the Seer, shrugged his shoulders lightly. "Add the fact that Spike is still getting used to his new body, his body simply shut down. It isn't the first time it has happened."

Angel frowned in thought for a moment before adding, "And I don't think the magic of this place is helping either." Angel started walking back to the castle and called over his shoulder, "We are going back now, right? Because he needs somewhere to rest as he won't wake until morning, your time, at the earliest." Connor trailed after his father with the brace thrown over his shoulder and twirling his axe with his other hand.

Albus followed after the two with Minerva at his side. "Are you satisfied then?" he asked her.

"Almost," she said. "How did he know Richard Potter that he would simply refer to him as 'Richard'?"

Before Albus could say anything, Connor answered without turning around, "Because Potter was Uncle's last name too. I assume they were related."

Remus just stared at the unconscious form being carried, mouth slightly agape as he walked behind the Headmaster. "William Potter," he said softy. "Are you saying that _he_ is William_ Potter?_ The great-uncle that disappeared?"

Albus smiled, "You know about that, do you?"

"Yes, James and Sirius were always intrigued by his disappearance."

Minerva frowned. "I can understand Mr. Potter's interest in his ancestor, but Sirius?"

Remus chuckled. "Sirius had some wild idea about how the disappearance of William Potter was somehow related to a string of murders in the wizarding world. Utter rubbish I said and pure speculation on Sirius' part, but it still caught his fancy, so he joined James." He laughed sadly and shook his head. "Just one of those things that caught their attention for a little while, keeping them occupied and out of trouble."

Albus smiled at the antics that intelligent and bored boys could get into. "Richard was William's older brother," he said slowly and, after a moment, added thoughtfully, "Making him Harry's only living relative in the magical world."

"But where has he been all this time? And _what_ was all that about getting used to a new body?"

"_That_ is a long story," came from the front of the group.

"We seem to have time," was Remus' droll response.

"Yes, but it is not our story to tell," Connor said, still twirling his axe. "You'll have to wait until Uncle wakes."

"Besides, we have other things to do," Angel said firmly. "I need to call the office to update them and make arrangements for our apparent overnight stay."

"Well, that should be simple—use the Headmaster's fireplace," Tonks said reasonably.

Connor turned around and looked at her with a quizzical expression. "Why would we need a fireplace? We have our cell phones, or I do at least."

Dumbledore's eyes began twinkling with amusement.

===

**Time:**           19:00 GMT

**Location:**     Abandoned Hallway, _Hogwarts__School__ of Witchcraft and Wizardry _

                     Scotland UK

===

She looked down at him. _Damn. What did she do now?_ _Could she just leave him there?_ Her conscious didn't seem to mind that thought, at least until she saw the blood.

She growled out automatically, "For Salazar's Sake!" Then she quickly snapped her mouth closed, appalled that that had been so natural for her to say and that she didn't realize she had said it until she heard herself say it. _Bloody Merlin!_ she swore to herself as she crouched down and examined the blood, along with the person it had evidently come out of.

Blood._ Did she really push him that hard? _She shook her head violently, pushing the thought from her head. She had done what she had _had_ to in order to stop him from dragging her outside and getting both of them killed. She had saved both their lives. If she had been a little rough about it and he got hurt in the process, oh well. _They were both still alive, no thanks to Malfoy._

"I should just leave you here," she groused as she tentatively put her hand under his head and withdrawing it a great deal bloodier. She wiped her hand on his robes and took out her wand; beginning to methodically use a shearing charm to, well, shred his robes while continuing to talk aloud to herself. "It would serve you right. But," she sighed dramatically, "I guess I did help contribute to your current condition and having you die would so ruin my weekend."

She took the first strip and soaked up the excess blood from his head, shaking her head,

"Head wounds are so tedious, all that blood for a little cut." She took the next strip and wrapped it firmly around the wound and his head, covering his face in the process. She giggled at the picture he made. "I feel bad about covering your eyes, but you are unconscious and you look very similar to the mummies we saw in Egypt…" she drifted off and then scowled, wanting to hit Malfoy for again reminding her of her first year and Riddle, but huffed instead. "Can't really hit you again as I haven't yet properly patched the previous wound," she said as she started to wind another strip around his head, making sure to keep pressure on the wound.

"At least being around the twins for so long has taught me first aid. When you wake up, you'll have to go visit their shop and thank them." Then she grinned at the irony and added, "They are also the ones who taught me to hex as well as I do. Can't have your big brothers think they can push you around." She wrapped another strip around and then, upon examination, tied it firmly and patted his head. She said with a smile, "There you are, all wrapped up like a present."

Then the smile fell and she swiftly stood as she pocketed Malfoy's wand, saying, "Can't have you causing trouble, can I?" She frowned in concentration and then cast a soft, _"Mobilicorpsus,"_ with her own wand on the knocked out boy and began mumbling irritably as she made her way to the Infirmary, being careful to avoid the high-trafficked hallways, with the body eerily floating in her wake.

"Madame Pomfrey is not going to like the present she is going to have to unwrap. Damn you Malfoy, getting me in trouble even when you aren't awake. Think I could just knock and then leave you at the door?" She stopped and looked over toward the boy as if expecting him to answer. Then she shook her head solemnly, and began walking, facing forward, again. "I didn't think so either. My Weasley luck, you would bleed to death before Madame Pomfrey found you some time tomorrow morning because she was dealing with another patient and didn't hear my knock. No, no, I'll have to bring you in myself. But then I have to explain what I am doing dragging your prone and bloody body into hospital for."

She shrugged. "The truth will have to do. We were doing what we usually end up doing when we come in contact: fighting, you grabbed me, I shoved you, not hard mind you, and you cracked your head on the wall. And then again on the floor when you fell." She laughed and added, "Considering how big your head is, it shouldn't really come as a surprise."

She walked for a long length saying nothing, simply fingering her wand lightly as she maintained the spell and playing with a small bloody shred of Malfoy's robe in her left hand. As she came upon the Infirmary, she mused aloud a thought that had just popped into her head, "I wonder what you will remember. The knock on your head probably erased the last fifteen minutes, at least, of our encounter. You will probably remember the beginning of our talk…oh, I _hate_ when I know things I shouldn't have a clue about for Salazar's Sake!! Oh—!" She clenched her mouth shut again and gave the floating boy a glare. 

"This is all _your_fault Malfoy," she ground out viciously and stopped, stomping her feet, in front of the Infirmary doors. A last sideways scowl and a muttered, "I didn't hit you hard enough for all the trouble you are giving me tonight. I should leave you…" before Ginny growled and knocked on the Infirmary door, continuing to mumble, "I _didn't_ hit you thathard."

While she waited, she thought of something. A smile slowly crept across her face, the same smile Draco had earlier compared to that of a demon, and she hummed happily, "I think I'll just keep it."

===

**Time:**           14:00 EST (GMT-5)

**Location:**     Temporary North American Headquarters, _Watchers Council _

                     _Hellmouth_, Cleveland, OH   USA

===

"Shouldn't we call Angel before we leave?"

Buffy scowled at her for asking that question _again_ and responded with the same answer. "Because we _can't_ tell him," she stated simply.

"I could email Fred—it wouldn't take two seconds—" Willow started, but Buffy cut her off.

"No!" Buffy rubbed her head, trying unsuccessfully to stop her forming headache. "I know you think I am being irrational—"

"Just a little," Xander put in and then cringed at the look Buffy gave him.

"Not helping Xander," Willow said.

Buffy continued as if no one had interrupted her, "But I'm not being irrational—I am going on pure instinct with this and my gut is telling me we cannot contact Angel or any of his group." She shook her head and sighed. "I wish I could explain it—but I can't. And it's not that I don't want to tell Angel—it's just that, that telling Angel is not what we are meant to do. We are meant for something else and that something is what the Coven felt."

Buffy dropped to the couch, rubbing the still sleeping Dawn's back. "I know I sound crazy—I feel like I'm going crazy. I swear that dead slayers are haunting my dreams. We can't call Angel because what we need to do doesn't and can't involve him." Then Buffy added as Willow opened her mouth, "Or his employees." Then Buffy just laughed cynically and put her head in her hands. "If we tell them, they will want to help and we simply can't take their help." She looked up at her friends, "This is something that we need to do on our own."

Xander simply shrugged his shoulders, he hadn't really wanted to call the vampire, and he was just supporting his best friend. Willow, after a moment of scrutinizing Buffy, acquiesced, nodding. Buffy smiled and murmured thanks.

Willow resumed typing and said, after a moment of thinking about the Demonic Law Firm that Angel was in charge of, "And it isn't like they won't know where we are. With the entire firm at their disposal, they can easily locate us." She stopped typing and gave Buffy a smile of her own; shaking her head at the realization she just arrived at. "So I guess it really doesn't matter if we tell him where we are going. If they want to find us, they can use their resources to find us." Her mind placated with her logic, she resumed typing, reserving their flights and locating suitable housing to set up another command post.

Willow paused again in her typing, but didn't look up from her screen as she asked, "How many of us are going Buffy?"

Buffy frowned, calculating. _The Hellmouth was here and was a constant danger, but what the Coven had felt was…worse, she just knew it._ "The core group to start with—everyone from Sunnydale, except Robin and Faith." She paused long enough for Willow to look up at her questioningly. "Then it depends on what we find and what you can feel, Wills, when we get there, but make sure to acquire accommodations large enough for the entire group."

Willow's mouth formed in a silent 'O' and Xander's eye was wide. Xander recovered first, blinking heavily and asked, "Do you think that everyone will really be necessary?"

Buffy smiled sadly. "Unfortunately yes and even that may not be enough."

Willow snapped out of it and put in smoothly, "Well, if we aren't enough, then we will just have to find people to help us." She began typing again while adding, "But they will have to find their own place to stay."

===

**Time:**           19:15 GMT

**Location:**     Infirmary, _Hogwarts__School__ of Witchcraft and Wizardry _

                     Scotland UK

===

The Infirmary doors opened with a bang. At the noise, Poppy said irritably, not looking up from her current patient, "Quiet, please!" When she received no response to her admonition and there was no sound of footsteps approaching her, she looked up. Then she promptly screamed.

===

To my lovely reviewers:

**Silverfox1**: No eating of Sevi? LOL! And Dru is a _very_ bad vampire and she likes it that way.

**Usakura**: I'm hurt! You actually think that I would kill Severus? Well, I guess I did kill Cordelia, but she was, like, already almost dead. Thank you for the praise. Sorry this took so long. Dru's prophecy was fun to write – I started with three stanzas and it just kinda grew from there. The slayers won't be here for a while though.

**Benjis**** VIP**: Dru's logic only really makes sense to Dru herself and sometimes Spike. I hope this chapter helped to explain a little more of Dru's reasoning.

**miz**: Buffy and co. will be joining, but not for a while, sorry. And will Severus retain his position as Potions Master? Hmmmm, well, getting removed would seriously hurt Sev's ability to be an effective spy. But how he will regain his vaunted control over himself and his emotions is the real question.

**Golden-Vampyre-Goddess**: Thank you. Sorry, it took even longer this time ducks rotten fruit I will do better this time. If not, bug my Beta—she is supposed to keep track of me.

**xmag**: Glad you like the story. Good plot and characterization – Thank you! I always try my best to keep everyone in character, well, how I see their character. I can't stand seeing the way Angel has been acting in Season 5, like some overgrown child in a competition with Spike, so I have blocked it out: la-la-la! Dru's prophetic poem was fun to write, I'm glad that everyone enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed writing it – makes me feel the warm fuzzies.

**eth**: I know, isn't it ironic. I have to say that it wasn't my original idea to have Drusilla turn Severus into a vampire, that came from **Lucinda**'s _Brave Snake Hissing_ at Twisting the Hellmouth tthfanfic.com although my Severus will be a totally different kind of vampire.

**Hieiko**: Glad that you enjoy this story and Dru's characterization. Spike and Connor I love those two. I really think that if Spike could have been there to help Connor through his little breakdown, Connor wouldn't have had to been shipped away. They are just a perfect duo.

**Fairy**: Died? Never! Comatose—maybe. Yes, Draco is a little creep and he is going to stay a little creep. But Gin doesn't always have the best taste in men and she is getting a little more aggressive…

**Astria**: I'm very happy that you like my story and my characterizations. Vamp!Snape will prove interesting when we see him.

**storm079**: Ginny knew that something was going on, not specifically Drusilla. How she knew—well, she had a feeling. And I do adore a good Ginny/Draco fic – we'll see if this one goes that way.

**jenny**: Thanks for the review. I do my best to make this seem believable – Buffy and Angel usually seem to get pulled into problems, so that is what I tried to do here. I think the way I brought Angel and crew to Hogwarts is original, so I'm glad that everyone seems to like it too. All you have to say is 'good job' in a review. A yahoo! Group – I guess I could make one of those.

_seeya!_

===


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